


Play my Heartstrings (they're already bleeding)

by Lotto95



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, And Emma is Super Gay, Angst, DJing, F/F, Fluff, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Swan Queen Supernova 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-06-30 17:27:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 51,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15756402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotto95/pseuds/Lotto95
Summary: “If only this could be one of those meet-cutes where the blonde woman knocks off the side mirror of the hot brunette’s car, and it leads to their eyes meeting and shy smiles and a few years down the line they retell this story at their wedding. Unfortunately for Emma, this hot brunette storms from the other side of the parking lot shrieking, “What do you think you are doing?” with the loud obnoxious heels clipping against the gravel. “Get away from my car!””Or the one where Emma and Regina are in a DJ competition hoping to win more than just the main prize.[SwanQueen endgame, some DragonQueen. Modern AU no magic, no curse]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Swan_mills7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swan_mills7/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Play my Heartstrings (they're already bleeding) [FANART]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686559) by [Swan_mills7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swan_mills7/pseuds/Swan_mills7). 



> Firstly, a massive thank you to all the mods!! You guys are amazing and we wouldn't be able to do it without you. 
> 
> A massive thank you to my artist, who not only created the incredible art that inspired this fic (please go check it out and give lots of love), but who helped me so much along the way. We really do make a great team! 
> 
> As this is a fic that centres heavily on music, I created a playlist of all the songs that are included within the fic! The songs are in the order that they appear within the fic. 
> 
> [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/lottosq/playlist/3VI3S84PRhQpYatIVsfEWL?si=xl3UqZIgQgqtgSLEZ0eslg)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy. Comments are always welcome!

_Entries_

If only this could be one of those meet-cutes where the blonde woman knocks off the side mirror of the hot brunette’s car, and it leads to their eyes meeting and shy smiles and a few years down the line they retell this story at their wedding. Unfortunately for Emma, _this_ hot brunette storms from the other side of the parking lot shrieking, “What do you think you are doing?” with the loud obnoxious heels clipping against the gravel. “Get away from my car!”

She rolls her eyes. It wasn’t as if she could do anymore damage, but to placate the woman and _just in case_ Emma side steps with a sheepish smile. “I’m so sorry,” she says, hands up in the air. The woman picks up her pace and Emma’s eye bulge like one of those cartoon characters. It couldn’t be –

“You will be,” she purrs, squinted eyes fixed on Emma. “How the hell did you manage to-” she lifts the broken mirror that had been hanging by a few measly wires.

Emma smiles apologetically. “I fell,” she mutters, “and reached for something, and well…” well…her mind spins and those bulged eyes morph to pulsating hearts.

She lets the broken window drop with a loud sigh. “You can pay for the damage,” she snaps, running her eyes from Emma’s tattered converse, up the worn jeans and scrunches her nose dismissively at the red leather jacket.

Emma shrinks; it wasn’t as if she could refuse, but she’s more likely to find a hoard of leprechauns in her purse than money. “Yeah, of course,” she says, impressed at her ability to keep her voice from wavering. Regina rummages through her handbag before she pulls out a small notebook and shoves it at Emma’s chest.

They exchange details. Emma looks down at the paper that had been handed to her, and _stares._ The reason behind this exchange withers from her mind, and it’s a bubble she would have liked to stay in all day. Until she spits, “get out of my sight,” and it’s rude enough for Emma to scoff and dismiss her completely.

Screw the meet-cute; this woman is a total bitch. A rude one, a _hot_ one, and she sighs with a sinking in her stomach and…she glances down at the paper feeling the flutter in her chest.

_Regina Mills._

Who is she kidding? If she weren’t utterly pissed, then she would be on cloud nine. She supposes there are better ways to give your four year-long crush your number, but _still_ _._ Regina raises her brows and the bubble is thoroughly burst. “Right,” she mutters, “erm…see you in there,” she says, and Regina does this little chuckle of disbelief. There’s a skip in her step and a frown on her face when she turns away, her mind and body thoroughly confused by the contrast.

 

* * *

 

It had only taken three trains from Queens to Brooklyn and a run in with her idol for Emma to reach registration a good thirty minutes late. Her heart picks up as she rushes over to the desk. “Hi,” she says breathlessly, “I’m not too late, am I?”

The woman behind the desk, Janice her tag says, lifts her disinterested eyes. Her jaw works over what Emma can only presume is gum as she swivels to the computer. “Name,” she says. Emma so dutifully gives it. “Can I see some ID, please?” Janice looks over the ID than hands it back before handing over a white envelope. “Go through those double doors then follow the arrows.”

“Thank you.”

Emma shuffles her backpack onto her shoulder then makes her way down the hall. The envelope contains a lanyard and pass that she throws over her neck. Her pass proudly has the letter H and the number 6 on the both sides, but it’s only when Emma pulls out the schedule that she can breathe. “Some good news,” she mutters, quickly skimming the page.

Her group doesn’t hit the rehearsal room for another two hours, and that means she doesn’t compete for around three. It’s enough time for her nerves to settle and to put the incident out of her mind.

But of course, _of course,_ when she makes her way into the rehearsal space after her group is called, Regina is leant over a mix table, headphone pressed to her left ear and furrows her brow at the disk she’s spinning. Emma freezes and gawks. It’s only when some idiot guy hits her shoulder to get inside that she realises those hazel eyes were staring right back.

“Bet you didn’t expect to be in the same group, huh?” the voice says from behind, and it’s a lifesaver, because Emma spins and her eyes light up.

“Ruby!” Both arms wrap around her neck. She squeezes gently, smiling softly at the arms that snake around her waist and give her a brief squeeze. “Back at it for another year?” she asks, pulling away.

Ruby winks, “you know it.” She nudges Emma with her elbow, clipboard tucked into her arm and the duty earpiece on display. “Now are you going to get practising or just stare at the competition?” There’s a devilish smirk accompanied with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

“It’s not that,” she mutters, but there’s only so much rehearsal time and the last thing she needs is for someone to overhear. “Catch up later?”

Ruby nods then shoves Emma gently. “Get practicing, Swan.”

Emma chuckles, before turning back around. The last mix tape available is right across from Regina. When she reaches it that gaze pierces through. Regina scoffs, _scoffs,_ like she had any right.

All she can do is take a deep breath and ignore her. They’re playing the same set of songs first followed by two minutes of a voluntary mix. By this point, Emma had played both that much she could mix them in her sleep. It’s due to her preparations that she only uses about half of the remaining rehearsal time. If she doesn’t know it by now she won’t in thirty minutes. So she packs up and slips out of the room.

Ruby stands in the long corridor filled with crowds of people. A finger runs down the sheet on her clipboard before she pats a man on the shoulder and directs him down the hall. Emma hovers behind, hands slipped into the front pocket of her jeans. “Hey,” she says softly.

Ruby spins with a bright smile. “Hey yourself. Finished up in there?”

“Yeah. Think I’m good.”

“So…you wanna dish the juicy goss?” she asks, tips her head and moves them to a wall where there’s enough space Emma can afford to cross her arms without worrying she’ll hit a passer-by with her elbows.

Emma smirks, “I got Regina Mills’ number,” she says, and she receives a fist straight to her upper arm. “That hurt.” She grabs the pulsating area with a glare.

“I’m just pumped! Exactly how long have you been ogling her?”

“If I’d have known you would’ve punched me I would’ve started with how I tripped and damaged her car.” She rubs her arm and slumps against the wall. “I checked online earlier and the repayments-”

“What you’re telling me, Swan, is that you’ve got that hot chick’s number and you’re miserable about it?”

Emma rolls her eyes, “don’t call her a chick,” she says, and Ruby raises her palms as if Emma’s the offense police. “I don’t think it’s cool, that’s all.”

“Or you’re just way over your head with this one?” Ruby slides down the wall and somehow manages to stretch her legs out. It causes a few people to steer course or risk tripping over them, and Emma can’t decide if she wants to see someone do just that. You know, to make her feel a bit better.

“I’m not denying that,” she mutters, sliding down and crossing her ankles of her very stretched legs. “But I’m screwed, Ruby.”

Ruby bites her lip, “or you’re going to get screwed,” she says, bumping Emma’s shoulder.

“Ruby,” she hisses, “she was beyond pissed at me. Trust me. My bank account is the only thing that’s getting screwed here.” Ruby shrugs with a smug smirk. “I mean it Ruby. Regina might be hot, but she was a total ass. I get she was mad, but…”

“Oh?”

The syllable rings around Emma’s mind until she forgets how to breathe. “Tell me this is a nightmare,” she mutters, eyes flickering to Ruby before they lift.

For a split second a flash of a smirk graces Regina’s lips before she purses them. “You damage _my_ car then disagree with how I react?”

“No. I…” The biggest question was how long Regina had been leant against the wall? With her arms crossed and stern expression. She’d changed from the formal pantsuit from earlier. Now her shirt is baggy, and the black jeans fit snuggly around her waist. She looks freaking phenomenal and Emma gulps, forgetting what she had been about to say.

“You...?” Regina’s eyebrows rise before she pushes from the wall with a dismissive scoff. What was it with her and scoffing? “You know, it’s not polite to psyche out the competition, dear,” she says and cracks out her knuckles and stretches her neck.

 _Fuck._ Her dark shining hair brushes along her shoulders and cheeks. Emma’s so far gone she doesn’t realise she had been staring until Ruby clears her throat.

“I wasn’t,” she stammers.

“Right. I came to inform you you’re up first.”

“Oh, shit.” She scrabbles up with wide eyes and starts patting herself down as if she was going to find her dignity in her jeans pockets. God knows she could use it.

“Hey, Em.” Ruby stands and warm fingers travel around her wrist, squeezing gently. “Rehearsal doesn’t end for another ten minutes.” Those eyes squint in Regina’s direction. “That was uncalled for.”

Regina shrugs, “she is first, I didn’t say she was on right this second.”

Emma wants to be mad, but there’s no ball of anger in her gut. Instead she snorts. “I thought I was the one psyching out the competition?”

“They all glared at the door after you left and started playing twice as fast.” Regina smirks then spins away from them. “I couldn’t resist,” she mutters.  

Emma stares after her, hardly registering the fingers snapping in front of her face. “I’m not going to survive.”

An arm snakes around her own followed by a loud laugh from her friend. “Come on, you’ve got a competition to smash.”

Deep breaths, she thinks, and focuses her mind on the impending room and the sets she knows inside and out, no matter what her thoughts are trying to tell her. The deep breaths only work so far, however, when her mind is elsewhere.

 

* * *

 

Outside the main hall most contestants have shoved in earplugs either pacing or sitting down as if meditating.  A few have run to the bathroom, but when Ruby presses a finger to her earpiece and nods, her legs turn to jelly. “Emma.” Ruby claps her on the back. “You’re up.”

She nods, takes a breath then pulls open the double doors. Only three other contestants follow her in. She doesn’t need to glance over her shoulder to know a certain brunette is one of them. “Good luck,” Ruby whispers in her ear then stands inside of the closed door.

“Thanks,” she mutters, takes one more breath then walks in-between the aisle of seats. There are groups of people sat munching on snacks and muttering amongst themselves, and others who have tight postures and don’t move their eyes from the stage. She ignores them and takes the few steps until she’s in the centre of the booth.

The entry stage is standard and takes a more clinical approach compared to the rest of the competition. Still, to see the rest of it Emma must outshine the other hundreds of competitors. Or at least enough to make it to sectionals.

A table of three judges sits a few meters away from the booth. Two males and a female, all dressed down, but still appearing professional. The man on the right checks the slip of paper then pops his head up and speaks to his microphone. “H6? Emma Swan?” She nods and sets up the equipment. “Whenever you’re ready.”

She swallows down the lump and clenches her fingers to stop them from shaking. Her eyes skim across the room, briefly stopping on the woman sat with one leg crossed over the other. She smirks when their eyes meet, and something about that expression lights a fire.

Aligning herself behind the turntable, she lifts the headphones over her ears then readies her hands as if to play piano. It’s a little overdramatic, even for her, but she throws a wink into the crowd, more so in Regina’s direction, and then plays the compulsory songs. A smile occurs twenty seconds in, when lyrics underplay the beat she’d set up. Although the songs that are given are compulsory, how they are presented is up to each participant.

The judge on the right end sits up straight when she smoothly transitions into the next song. He’s wearing an Eminem shirt and baggy jeans, and the casual nature of this competition has her shoulders relaxed. She scratches without warning then flips the music, a risk, but that man fist pumps and by the time she’s finished her heart beat has accelerated past normal levels.  

She’s flushed and breathless when she starts her voluntary set, getting an ‘okay’ sign from the female judge. There’s less of a risk for this set, it’s a few well-known songs mixed in with a few of her own favourites. Their beats, tempos and key don’t necessarily fit, but no matter what the little voices in the back of her head sometimes tell her, she’s _good,_ and had worked tirelessly to get the tracks to _work_.

The moment the beat from Jax Jones _you don’t know me_ begin to play she dances along, a few other contestants join her. Anyone with half a brain knows how fabulous of a DJ he is. She slows down the tempo of the song before adding _Space_ by Hills then speeds the tempo back up. After a few seconds the tracks stop. It’s two seconds of silence, and the frowns do nothing to slow her heart.

One arm shoots into the air as Ally’s voice booms with a loud _‘they say life’s a bitch’_ before the beats pick back up. The words play on a loop underneath the songs she transitions to, and by the time she’s finished her cheeks ache. The first judge flops back in his seat and claps in the air.

“Nice job, Emma,” he says, as the three judges scribble something down. She beams and hurries down the booth, wanting to put her arms to the side and spin around. Ruby waves at her across the room then gives her the thumbs up before slipping outside to get the next person up. With her pulse beating dramatically against her throat she jumps at the feel of a warm hand on her bicep.

Regina smiles with a twinkle in her eyes. “Nice sets,” she says, head nodding. “I’m impressed.” And by gods Emma wants to faint.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, half disappointed to lose the touch. “When are you up?”

“Forth.”

“Good luck up there.”

Regina chuckles lightly, “I don’t need luck, dear,” and Emma rolls her eyes. She would find the obnoxious comment annoying if she wasn’t floating and had heard every mix Regina had ever done. Repeatedly. “Are you staying to watch?”

“Yeah,” she says a little breathlessly.

“I would offer to sit with you, but you’d probably break the legs of my chair,” she says dryly. Emma snorts. “Oh, that wasn’t a joke. I’ve seen you in action.”

Emma bites down on her lip, shrugging, “I thought you hated me.”

“Oh, I do-” her body saddles closer, warmth breath spreading out over her neck, “but if I leave you alone, who knows who you’re going to shit talk about me to.” The next person up in the booth finishes their set before either of them had paid attention. Emma pulls back and eyes her, uncertain whether there had been an underlying threat.

Regina winks and spins around, accentuating the sway in her hips. Emma’s eyes dip then lift far slower than was appropriate. Her stomach tightens, and she licks her lips, contemplating whether she should follow. In the end she sits down where she is, not wanting to find any reason to provoke her.

Most of the room turn their attention to the booth when Regina walks up the steps. Those that don’t mustn’t have heard her mix before. Within the booth Regina twists her head from side to side before setting up the equipment.

“Welcome back,” the female judge says.

Regina nods in acknowledgement, beginning the required songs in a set list that has original beats beneath the tracks. Emma’s eyebrows rise in surprise; clearly Regina hadn’t bother to read the fine print. With every second within the booth the hard edges that surround Regina turn malleable and soft. Her movements are fluid as she plays the songs with originality and grace. Time slows as if Regina had bent it to her will. Although only two minutes had passed the room is silent when she finishes her compulsory set. Applause runs across the room, and a tiny smile passes on Regina’s lips, but otherwise she pays no attention to the room.

It's not arrogance, but a complete and utter devotion. The mask that Regina had presented to her all day slips away when she begins her second set. Her hazel eyes focus as her hands brush across the turntable, creating mesmerizing sound and music.

Emma hadn’t considered using the method of rise, fall, rise in terms of the beats given the time limit, and she usually finds the heavier and catchier beats gather more of a reaction. But then Regina transitions into something softer. A song called Crash by Trella. Something she’d once listened to obsessively.

The room shrinks, her focus entirely on the woman within the booth. She leans forwards as Regina whispers along with the lyrics _I’m going to be free this time._ Her body relaxes along to the soft beat, but even when she adds another song to the mix, a faster one, and sways her hips along with the song, those lyrics remain threaded through into perfectly timed movements when there’s a dip or pause in the music. And this is the Regina she knows, the Regina she admires. She’s mesmerized.

That’s the beauty of music, the connections and feelings it dredges up from the trenches of the emotional pits where they are buried. And Regina uproots them expertly. An unexpected sting in Emma’s eyes has her blinking back into the room. There’s a lump in her throat when Regina nods at the judges and smoothly exits the booth.

Her foot taps impatiently against the ground, eyes unashamedly tracking Regina’s movements. There’s a general applause in the room and the judges talk animatedly amongst themselves, but Emma can’t keep her eyes away. The only thing she’d ever known about the woman prior to their meeting was the way she could make her feel. And now she had felt it live.

Regina makes her way down the aisle and still Emma watches her. “You’re amazing,” she says when she’s in reach, and the more dazed look filters away until Regina’s eyes are filled with their usual mischief.

“Huh? I didn’t know.” Emma wants to chuckle, roll her eyes and respond in anyway other than to gawk, crestfallen. Regina looks her up and down, squinting her eyes. “I’ll call you once I’ve taken the car in.” Emma nods tightly. “See you at sectionals.”

As Regina turns Emma blurts out a, “what?” and twists in the chair. “We haven’t gotten any results yet.” Regina’s valiant attempt at winking is her only response before turning around and swaying those gorgeous hips away.

As predicted, when the lists go up Emma’s name is placed proudly on the side of those who had gotten through. They claim the order is randomised in this competition, but her name is near the top, only a few places below Regina’s, which is only a few places from being in the unofficial top spot. She sends a quick text to her roommate, cringing slightly at all the ones she had sent throughout the day when she’d been in utter meltdown.

“Congratulations, Swan.” Ruby smiles and yanks her in for a hug now that she’s out of the convention centre. The air is chilly, and the sun is setting, but her palms flatten on Ruby’s back, eyes squeezed shut as she sways in place without a thought to moving.

She sighs, “thank you,” and gives her one more squeeze. The day had been a rollercoaster and a half, but she’d done what she came here to do. Except her face falls when she glances over the busy parking lot and notices Regina slipping into her damaged car. There’s a woman in the passenger seat, and for a moment her chest feels tight. “As much as I’d love to stay here and gloat, I have a train to catch.”

Ruby pecks her cheek and they say their goodbyes. Emma pulls the jacket a little firmer around herself. She would invest in a thicker coat but considering it’s already February, if she bought one, knowing her luck, the seasons would change earlier than usual. “See you in a few weeks, Rubes.”

“Get practicing-” she winks, “and send me a text when you get home, okay?”

Emma nods, cheeks a little pink and slides her hands into the pocket of her jeans. “You too,” she says with a final goodbye.

By the time she turns all thoughts of the competition filter from her mind. Instead it brings her back to the disastrous morning and her cheeks heat up as she makes her way towards the subway down the busy street.

 

* * *

 

If there was a record for the least graceful flop, then Emma manages to top it. With her legs and arms spread every which way on the couch, she groans and shoves a pillow against her face. It had been the most embarrassing day of her life, and that’s saying a lot. If only she could stay buried behind this fluffy pillow forever. Then her roommate chuckles. It makes Emma want to fall into this couch and never reappear. Perhaps she could make a life down there and never show her face again.

A dip in the couch precedes her thigh being gently patted. It shouldn’t help; she’s not a child in need of reassurance, but Emma pulls the pillow onto her lap, revealing the huge pout. “You’re looking at the face of shame.”

“Oh, come on.” Mary Margaret waves her hand with an eye roll. “Whatever happened can’t be _that_ bad.” Although, she’s still highly amused by the string of texts from her roommate that had ranged from _‘my life is over’_ to _‘think you could look up one-way flights to Antarctica?_ ’ “You should be celebrating.”

“Celebrating my life being in total chaos. I thought you were my friend?” It’s rude for anyone to think she should be cheerful right now. If she was going to mope, then the least her friend could do was be supportive.

Mary Margaret gives her a pointed stare. Perhaps she deserves it, but she also deserves a giant pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream. “Are you going to tell me what happened? Or am I going to have to assume you really did do something terrible like kick a puppy.”

“Hey!” She whacks Mary Margaret with the pillow. “I’m not a monster!”

It’s batted away then Mary Margaret raises her brows like she would at one of her pupils when they misbehave. Emma, feeling schooled, slips further down the couch and tips her head over the back. “I met Regina Mills,” she mumbles.

“ _The_ Regina Mills?”

“No. The other one.” Who exactly did she think she was referring to? She returns her head to normal and isn’t sure why she bothered. Mary Margaret’s brows remain raised, and she knows exactly what her roommate thought of that reply.

“And you were that much of a gay mess you left an impression?”

“Hey!” Mary Margaret smirks, and Emma can’t even dispute the statement. There was a time she was close to starting her own fan club for the woman. “I left an impression, alright.”

“Not a good one I take it?”

“I might have…erm, damaged her car.”

“That’s stalker territory, Emma,” she says, and Emma is far from amused. “You know better than that.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” because that would be beyond creepy. “I didn’t know it was her car,” she says, relaying the details of her gracious fall and the damage that had followed. “I wish it hadn’t been. She wants me to pay for the damage.”

“Ah.” Mary-Margaret nods slowly, wrapping her fingers around Emma’s wrist. “Don’t worry about it,” she whispers, squeezing gently. Emma’s eyes lower to her thighs. “You know I think of you as family,” she says softly, aware this is a sore spot.

A little blush appears on her cheeks. “Thanks,” she mumbles, smiling tightly at the only woman who has ever had her back. “But you’ve already done enough for me,” and the last thing she wants is to become a burden.

“If you need help I hope you know you can come to me,” she says, giving Emma’s wrist one final squeeze.  

Emma nods then slips her hands beneath her legs. She shrugs with a forced smile, “the bright side is I got her number,” and she can feel her cheeks wanting to force themselves up.

“See? Silver lining. How long have you had a crush on her again?” she asks in this sweet voice that is far from innocent.

Emma hits her with the pillow again, “I can’t help it that’s she’s hot.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Emma rolls her eyes before standing. Her arms stretch above her head whilst she takes a considerable yawn. Her gaze falls towards the end of the long hall and the tiny makeshift bedroom that’s shrinking year by year. “How’s he been? Really.”

“He’s okay, Emma. Misses you.” She doesn’t need to mention how he asks when his mommy is coming back every half hour or so. “But once we’ve got the paints out or we’re baking cookies he usually has a great time.”

“You know this is my best shot at-”

“I know, sweetheart.” Their eyes meet. Emma smiles softly. She would be lost without this woman and her generous heart. “I love spending time with the little one.”

Emma nods and offers a wry smile. “Thank you. Again.”

“Anytime, really.” And Emma knows she means it. She places a hand on Mary-Margaret’s shoulder and squeezes gently. It’s enough, for Mary-Margaret had grown to understand Emma and love her profusely. “Get some sleep, darling,” she says softly, and Emma nods, wishing she could do more to show her gratitude.

She bids Mary-Margaret goodnight then heads down the hallway, slipping inside the box-room. A toy truck had been left in the middle of the floor, so Emma picks it up and places it in the corner with the few toys that have found a home there. She sighs, then perches on the edge of his little bed where his feet are on the verge of popping out.

“Hey, kid,” she whispers, and pushes his damp hair back.

Henry’s on his front, stuffed animal tucked beneath his arm and the little snores have Emma’s heart swell. She alters the other two stuffed animals that are on the verge of tipping out of bed before leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his forehead with a whispered, “I love you.”

She rearranges the twisted covers so it’s covering his shoulders then sits by his side for some time. “Everything’s going to work out,” she says, gently rubbing his back. “I promise.” He grunts and pulls his stuffed elephant closer to his chest. Emma smiles with wet eyes. It’s only when Mary Margaret pops her head around the door that she quietly leaves the room, dragging herself up the stairs to bed.

 

* * *

 

Emma groans and throws her mobile against the couch. It bounces and for a moment she forgets to breathe. With how everything is working out it wouldn’t be a surprise if it smashed. By some miracle it lands on a pillow and flops down. The screen flashes again, Regina’s name in the centre.  

Mary Margaret saddles up behind her, hands on her upper arms. “I thought you would want the pretty lady to be calling,” she says. Emma jabs her elbows. “I’m just saying-” she dodges the offending elbows with a chuckle.

“What pwetty lady?” Henry asks, toddling over with a giant truck in his hand.

“A mean pretty lady.” Emma grimaces, wishing she could take back the comment. That certainly wasn’t how she should be parenting. Henry puts his truck down with a grunt and although it’s tiny, compared to his small figure it looks huge and must weigh a ton. Emma smiles and crouches down. “What you got there, bud?”

“It’s a garbage man,” he says, pulling the tiny figurine outside of the toy. “He’s…Tony.”

The random name makes Emma laugh and ruffle his hair. She looks to Mary Margaret who shrugs, not knowing where the name had come from either. “That he is,” she says, sitting cross-legged on the floor. As much as playtime with children isn’t the most exhilarating thing for an adult, Emma never misses a moment to put on her child cap and give him every second of the childhood she had lost. “Is he picking up all the garbage?”

He squeezes his face and takes a long moment to think. “He’s working,” he says, and hits the toy along the truck as if it’s jumping along it. Emma smiles sadly knowing where he had heard that phrase. Before she can shift his thoughts to something more playful, her phone buzzes on the couch. She groans and flops onto her back. Henry giggles and climbs on top of her. It’s enough for Emma to press pause on her worry, wrap her arms around him and blow raspberries on his neck. She groans again the moment her phone begins to buzz.

“You’re going to have to answer at some point,” Mary Margaret says, elbows against the kitchen counter and mug between her palms. “You never know what it might lead to.”

Emma mutters something under her breath and ignores the smirking woman. “It’s going to lead to an empty bank account,” she mumbles, because what good could possibly come out of this situation?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writers and artists spent months creating the fics and art you enjoy - it would mean the world to them if you commented to tell them what you liked! The SQSupernova team is also sponsoring a contest for commenters, and you can find out more [here](http://sqsupernova.tumblr.com/post/177527168129/the-swan-queen-supernova-comments-contest-returns).


	2. Chapter 2

_Sectionals_

The calls had stopped two days ago, but that didn’t stop Emma’s anxiety from skyrocketing past the normal levels during the weekend contest. She’s up for rehearsal in the early afternoon giving her enough time to grab some fruit and dash out of the cafeteria. It’s about as much as she can manage right now. Huddled in the corner of a mostly abandoned corridor something hard hits her ankle. She snaps her head to find Ruby, hand on her hip and glaring.

“Found something interesting down there?” she asks, then slides down the wall so their shoulders touch.

Emma chuckles, “no,” and feels a smidge of the tension leave her body. She swivels her head around and when satisfied the coast is clear sighs, “I’m sort of avoiding Regina.”

“Sort of?” She digs into her sandwich whilst managing to give Emma the stink eye. “You’re a good five miles away from the competition.”

“Shut up.” Emma pouts overdramatically. Ruby chuckles lightly, and the warmth has Emma leaning her head against her shoulder. “Henry misses you,” she mutters, and snuggles a tad closer.

It’s easier to stay in contact during the months of the competition, but for the rest of the year work and looking after a small child made it difficult for them to meet up more than sporadically. Most of their communication comes through a string of texts detailing Ruby’s love life.

Ruby flings an arm around Emma’s shoulders, “you dip shit,” she says, “I’ll definitely make some more time for the little man.” She gives Emma a quick kiss to the top of her head.

“Good.” Emma giggles and peaks her eyes up. “You want to give me the intel on the groups?”

“No can do, babe.” It would be more than her job is worth, even if that pout is very persuading. “Want to know if your avoiding was for nothing?”

“Pretty much.”

“That bad, huh?”

Emma doesn’t answer past a shrug. She’d checked over her finances, but there’s hardly any spare cash for her to invest in that tub of Ben & Jerry’s. “I’m not in the best place financially right now,” she admits quietly, “and she doesn’t present herself as the understanding type.” It had been hugely disappointing. Emma runs her fingers through her unruly hair and sighs.

“Chin up, kid. She might be a rich lady with a gorgeous bod.” Ruby smothers down her grin at Emma’s disapproving eye roll. “But have you ever tried this thing called talking?”

Emma shrugs, “I’ve…been avoiding her calls.”

“That’s going to make her so much more understanding.”

Emma sits up, pulling her knees to her chest. Pretending the situation didn’t exist had been a great way of dealing with it. Until, “and the chances of avoiding her all day are slim,” Ruby says, stating the obvious.

“Yeah-” she sighs, “I know.”

For these past few weeks her phone had become public enemy number one. It wasn’t so much the phone call, but what lay on the other side. There was not much she could do to make this better. Avoiding had been the best, yet dumbest choice.

“You should call her. Unless you’d prefer to have an awkward encounter.”

Emma drops her chin to her knees and pouts harder. “I had an entire plan of avoiding her for the next few months in place. I can’t believe you’re making me ditch it.”

“Me?” Ruby waves her off and pulls out a snickers bar. “I’m just enjoying my lunch break before I have to go hours keeping you rowdy lot in line. And giving you sound advice. For free.”

Emma fake scoffs, “I’d hardly call it good advice.”

“What you mean to say is ‘thank you, Ruby.’”

“Thank you, Ruby,” she says in a sickly-sweet tone.

“If I was to give you good advice,” she says, and the tone has Emma sitting up straighter ready to shake her head. “I would tell you to call her and ask her for a drink.”

“Like she’s going to agree to that,” she mutters, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d anticipated. She slumps back down. It would be better than being caught off guard.

Ruby finishes off the candy bar then shoves the wrapper in her bag. “Call her,” she says, standing then offers her hand to Emma. She takes it with a grateful smile and is pulled up. “I have to get back, but you can thank me later.”

Ruby winks then leaves her to stew in thought. Before she can stop herself, she pulls the phone out and hits call. With the phone pressed to her ear she slumps against the wall when the dial tone reaches the automated voice. She’s about to put it away when it flashes. “Dammit.”

Hardly able to ignore it now she swipes her finger along the screen then answers with a sheepish, “hello,” then grimaces.

“Miss Swan.” The steam might as well have travelled through the phone. She flinches, grabs her stuff then makes her way down the corridor as Regina’s voice reaches her. “It’s been _weeks_ and today of all days your phone starts working?”

“Yeah, erm…I-” her mouth hangs open when she turns the corner to the corridor where dozens upon dozens of people are crowded around. Some in groups, some alone, and then ... Regina. She recognizes her from the back and for one second considers turning back around, but the brunette spins and their eyes connect.

The steam Emma had imagined blows from her nose. Figuratively, but her nostrils flare and she shoves the phone away, takes a breath then quickly paces to Emma. “Realised you can’t avoid me forever?”

Emma shrugs, “you should give me points for trying.” Amusement briefly flashes through Regina’s eyes then they harden. “I’m sorry. I’m just…”

“Incapable of acting like an adult?” Regina huffs then lightly takes a hold of Emma’s arm. They snake through the crowds of people until they’re right back at the spot Emma had occupied. The hand drops from her arm so Regina can cross her own. “Care to explain yourself?”

“Erm…” her mind tries to come up with a viable excuse when Ruby’s idea springs to mind. “Can we maybe meet for a drink after the competition?” she asks, a long shot, but one that would give her more time to formulate a proper excuse.

“So you can stand me up? You must think I’m an idiot.”

“No. Regina. I’m sorry, I’m just…” she purses her lips, unable to say _broke,_ not until she has a few rounds of drinks in her. “We can meet in the bar afterwards to commiserate or celebrate and talk. I want to focus on the competition and I’m sure you do-”

“If you’d answered my calls at any other time then we wouldn’t be having this problem.” Emma’s eyes transform to those of a puppy, and the redness appears no matter how much she wills it away. Her head bows and she clears her throat. Miraculously Regina seems to take pity on Emma and sighs out a reluctant, “fine,” after a dramatic deep breath. “Don’t show up and they’ll be hell to pay.”

“Thank you.” Emma smiles weakly, shoving her hands in the pockets of her washed out knock off jeans. “When are you on?”

“Towards the end of the day. You?”

“About an hour. I gotta hit the rehearsal room soon.”

“Well, good luck, dear. I’m looking forward to seeing you mix.” Emma’s eyes widen, any worries washing away like it had rained upon her. Regina wants to see _her?_ The beam in her expression is so obvious she might as well be emitting sunlight. “Don’t act so surprised. You’re decent.”

Emma bounces on the spot, mumbling a, “thanks,” before her head spins off and she never sees it again. The flutter in her stomach is infuriating, but she can’t help it. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t guess, dear. Be there.”

“Right.” She nods, half a smirk on her lips then walks quickly away before she has a full-blown freak out in front of the woman who makes her emotions swing from one end of the scale to the other.

 

* * *

 

With her mind elsewhere, the rehearsal hadn’t gone as well as Emma would have liked. She’s still struggling with a few transitions, getting her fingers tied and not mixing the songs at the right time. She practices these sets three nights a week when she works, and in between looking after her three-year-old, on her rusty old turntable.

Her cheeks balloon then she lets out a long breath and spends the last few minutes slowly working through that transition. She hits it once then packs up her things before she psyches herself out. Another assistant is on the door calling time, so the reassuring smile from her friend is absent. She runs to her assigned locker and takes a swig of water to calm her nerves before filtering out of the room with the rest of them.

Waiting outside is a group of people, in the centre chatting animatedly is Regina. The sight of her does nothing to quell her nerves. She catches Emma’s eye then adorably attempts to wink. The thrill it sends runs from her toes and into her cheeks. With her elbow tucked into her side she lifts her palm. The blonde woman squints her eyes and wraps an arm around Regina’s waist. Regina shuffles until it’s dropped.

When she walks past she catches a slight hissing within the group before Regina runs up to her and whispers a, “go knock them out,” into her ear. It had only taken the time for Emma to turn her head for Regina to slip into the room. She’s second to last this time, which gives her time to watch the others within her group.

She hovers at the back of the room, hands in the back pockets of her jeans and focuses on the raised booth. This competition is open to the public for a small fee at the door. Her heart rate accelerates when her eyes skim over the darkened room, taking note of the crowd of people ready to watch them. If only her mind would focus on her own set, instead of the drink she’s to have afterwards. If she doesn’t make it through, then she’ll be drinking in sadness whilst Regina celebrates.

That thought alone has her eyes closing and mind focusing on the set she had prepared. Four minutes, this time, of a completely voluntary set. She _can_ do it, she tells herself then breathes in the energy of the room. It’s buzzing, so she can only imagine those who had performed before. Except, she _needs_ this; needs to find direction, to support her son, and to live out a life that’s fulfilling and meaningful.

“Feeling nervous, Miss Swan?”

Emma opens her eyes to the sight of Regina leaning against the wall. “A little,” she admits, “had a little trouble in rehearsal.”

“The way I see it,” she says, leaning in closer as if this is secret, “if you have a perfect rehearsal then you have no more bad sets to run. If you don’t then you’re getting the bad ones out of the way.”

“That helps,” she says, voice high pitched.

“Why are you always so surprised?” Regina pulls back and the smirk morphs to something softer, and when those fingers push the hair from Emma’s eyes she forgets to breathe. “I might be pissed about my car, but that doesn’t mean I’m a complete bitch.”

Emma chuckles, “sorry, I imagined you were the type of person to hold a grudge.”

“I most certainly am, dear.” When Emma frowns the twinkle in Regina’s eyes intensifies. “For all you know I’m buttering you up, so when the time comes I can crush you like a bug,” she whispers intently, back to leaning into Emma’s personal space.

“Why would you tell me that? Kind of have the opposite effect if I know.”

“Ah, but you don’t. The wondering will drive you mad.” Regina chuckles and turns away before Emma has decided which one she would prefer. If Regina saw her as a threat, then she might be better than she believes. Good enough to have Regina freaking Mills a little on edge. If Regina’s being nice to her then perhaps it’s because she doesn’t hate her quite as much as Emma had thought. Either thought works and by the time she’s called her entire body is light.

In the raised stage the light shines directly into the booth as she sets up the equipment. The judges are on a raised platform not too far from where she stands. They lift a palm to give her the go ahead. Before she starts she scans the crowd, but luckily enough the darkness blacks most them out. She only hopes Regina’s out there watching.

The beat tumbles from the turntable, out into the crowd and through the large headphones resting over her head. It’s steady until she pushes up the pitch control and adds ‘First Time’ by M-22 beneath the steadily increasing beat as she changes tempo. The high voice sings below the track _you’ve got me feeling something it’s true._ It repeats, speeding up with each repetition then she takes a breath, switches tempo, uses two fingers to mess the volume on one beat then changes to a song that’s dominating the charts. Sighing she dances and takes note of a few moving figures in the crowd.

Towards the end of her set she adds in some older David Guetta; Dangerous. When the opening chords of the piano mix into the current song, multiple people cheer. _You…you take me down, spin me around_ ; she scratches the disk, adds in the explosive moment before the chorus then goes right into it. Then, she adds a favourite of hers in the last thirty seconds; ‘Help I’m alive’ by Metric. _I tremble_ plays on a loop followed by _my heart’s_ then a slow rise of _beating like a hammer_ that starts as a whisper then increases and mixes with Dangerous. _And I’m still alive_ is the final lyrics before the music fades out and her four minutes are up.

One breath later a clap filters around the crowd, and a judge even stands up. Emma’s certain her fingers have melted to butter and some of those transitions had been slightly off, but no one else seems to have noticed. Her head shakes as she runs down the few steps and into the crowd. She doesn’t see Regina again until she’s wiggling on a plastic chair and eyes glued to the stage.

Once again, she cannot keep her eyes away. Regina sets up and smiles out at the crowd. A judge salutes her then she’s nodding repeatedly, shuffles the head phones then begins to play. There’s original transitions, new, old and songs Emma doesn’t recognise. People in the crowd are up on their feet, dancing along with the thrumming beat that had laced the tracks thus far. It’s only when Emma recognises Paramore that she smiles and sits captivated. ‘Misguided ghosts’ intertwines with the other song and underlying base. _I’m trying to find my place. It might not be here that I feel safe_ whispers delicately like a secret. Where Emma had been expecting it to repeat Regina switches to another song at the end of her set, but instead of dancing and clapping with everyone else, she watches Regina’s face.

It’s only then that Regina seems at ease with her surroundings. She wonders what she looks like when she’s up there, nervous, but safe in its confines. Regina effortlessly owns the stage, her entire being eliciting something welcoming and calm. When the set ends the crowd is on their feet. Regina offers a curt nod before exiting the stage.

Emma sighs and falls back on her chair, heart thrumming loudly. That had been something, and the aurora surrounding the room that is left has set the bar high. Emma pities whoever has to follow that. It also leaves Emma dazed as she sits alone for the rest of the competition, hardly focusing on any act that follows.

 

* * *

 

“What are you having?” Emma asks, slamming her palms on the bar with more enthusiasm than she’d had a few hours ago.

Regina purses her lips and slips elegantly onto the stool. “An apple martini, please.” Her hands clasp delicately on the bar, and the excitement slowly fades. She orders the drink and a beer for herself, ignoring the disapproving look she’d gotten when it had been placed on the bar. “Classy, dear.”

Emma shrugs, takes a sip and smiles with a slight foamy moustache. “I’m celebrating.”

“It’s sectionals,” she says, tone dripping with superiority. Her back straightens when she takes a small sip of the drink. “Hardly something to get over excited about.”

“Winning has gotten to your head,” Emma mutters, and decides there and then she won’t let Regina ruin her mood. The crowd and judges alike had adored her set and the way the room had begun to dance had been _everything_ and more. “Some of us aren’t big fancy hot shots.”

“Excuse me?” Regina swivels her head towards Emma, face stern and unreadable. “I didn’t say I expected to get through the round, and I haven’t _won_ anything.”

Emma takes a large gulp of her drink. “Right-” her head nods as if she’s agreeing to something, though what that is she doesn’t know. “But you did come third a few years ago. And anyway, why can’t we celebrate making it through another round? It’s still an achievement.”

Emma’s eye roll tells Regina exactly what she thinks of the woman’s attitude. Regina fingers her drink, running her tip along the edges and stares into it. “I suppose,” she says, pausing as if the next words are painful, “you are right. I’m not used to…praise. My mother considered anything below first place as losing.”

“Wow. That’s tough.” Regina hums softly, eyes firmly on her drink and it gives Emma a chance to run her eyes over the woman and her impassable exterior. If they were more than competitors, then Emma would place her hand on Regina’s back and rub it gently. Instead, all she has is, “I think you should celebrate. I’m proud of us.”

She lifts her glass into the air and raises a brow as if to say, ‘I’m not moving it’ and on a rather large sigh Regina clinks their glasses together. A minute smirk presents itself, and Emma considers it a job well done. Those dark eyes bore into Emma when she takes another sip of her drink. “Are you usually this optimistic?”

Emma makes a noncommittal sound. “I mean…I’m trying to be. I know life can suck at times, but I’m learning to enjoy the moments.” If only to teach her son there’s more to life than misery. Even when things don’t go as planned and the odds seemed stacked up against them, she wants him to find the good in every situation. Less he grows up increasingly miserable, like his mother.

It does earn her a soft expression. One that’s quizzical and perhaps a little envious. “I wish I had that outlook,” she confesses, “but I’ll accept we’re celebrating if you’re up for another round?” The expression shifts to something more mischievous.

Emma’s eyebrows shoot up. “Sure. You buying?” And that causes a slight cringe, but Regina barley notices. She’s flagged the bartender down and ordered another round before they’ve finished their first. It wasn’t how Emma had imagined this going, but she can’t say she minds. “So…what got you into DJing?”

“That’s…a rather boring story.” She shuffles on the seat, eyes downcast to her thighs and Emma doesn’t think it is, however she knows when not to push, so she simply nods. “You?”

“Erm…” she shuffles herself, but with no reason to be ashamed of her past she takes a deep breath and hopes she doesn’t turn red or this rich woman judges. “There was this outreach programme for foster kids. There was a bunch of different stuff, but the turntable drew my attention. It was one of the only things I enjoyed doing, so when I left the system and got a job the first thing I did was save up to get my own.”

“You were a foster child?” Regina asks, because no matter whom she tells the story they always get stuck on that point. Emma nods and hums out a yes. A flash of sympathy flashes through Regina’s eyes, but it disappears as quickly as it came. “Sob stories don’t work on all of us, dear,” she says, tone light and oddly playful, “we’re still competitors, and when the time comes. I will crush you.”

Emma _grins,_ like a freaking fool. It’s so refreshing, but Regina looks so lost at the reaction and it only pushes the grin up more. “Told you. Winning is getting to your head,” she says, “and it’s not a sob story. I have plenty of those and that’s certainly not one of them.” Her hand playfully slaps Regina’s arm, but the words come full circle and back into her brain. “Forget I said that last part.”

Regina squints like she doesn’t quite know what to do. Her gaze travels from her arm to the hand that had hit her there to Emma’s wide eyes. “I will,” she says, and it’s soft like there’s more to the jagged edges she presents and how they came to be broken. Emma wants to ask about them, to run her fingers over the tips despite the risks just to know more.

She clears her throat, “so…erm, we should talk about the car,” and lowers her head, finger running through a tiny spillage of water to create patterns. “I’m sorry I didn’t answer your calls.”

“It’s a good job you offered to buy me this drink. I was one phone call away from finding out where you work.” Emma snaps her head up, but Regina’s biting down on a smile. It calms her nerves enough for her to chuckle awkwardly.

“Sorry,” she says again, “if I’m being honest. I’m broke.” She returns to swirling her finger along the bar, waiting for the judging eyes.

They don’t make an appearance, though that might be because Emma refuses to look up. “Yet you offered to buy me a drink?” she asks carefully.

“Might as well go out in style.” And the alcohol made it possible for her to gather the courage to confess to her financial situation. “I’ll pay you back, Regina. Every penny, but it might be a while. I don’t want to put you out, of course. It’s just-”

Regina raises her palm. “At least you’re being honest with me…eventually.” Her phone is pulled out, the newest iPhone, because of course it is, and she pulls up her calendar. “How about you pay me in two instalments?” Emma bites her lip and nods, with an ‘ _I can try’_ on the tip of her tongue. “I should know the total payment in a week. I’ll get in touch with you then, if,” she says, stating pointedly at Emma, “you answer my call, then we can work something out.”

“Thank you.”

She would sigh, but even that is pushing her budget. It’s the best she’s likely to get given the situation, and she doesn’t want to push her luck. Regina places her phone back into the pocket of her blazer when a blonde woman walks over. “We’re ready for you,” she says, and Emma shrinks into the background when they have a brief conversation.

With one hand clasped around her drink, Emma doesn’t think she’s going to get as much as a goodbye when a hand finds itself on her shoulder. “Would you like to join us?” Regina asks, and the blonde woman raises her brows before shaking her head. She walks away without another word.

“Doesn’t look like your friend wants me to,” not that she even knows what exactly it is she’s joining.

“That’s simply Mal being, well…Mal.” Regina’s eyes roll, and it helps Emma sit up and pay attention. “So, Miss Swan. Are you up for a round or two of poker?”

“Poker?!” Emma had played a few friendly hands, but she imagines that these people have money and there’s no way she could play. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she mutters, because it sounds like a very, very, bad idea.

Regina tilts forward in the chair, and Emma’s idiotic eyes dip to the small amount of cleavage it reveals. It’s not subtle, and Regina notices whether she says anything or not. “How about we make it interesting?” she asks, and Emma gulps before licking her lips.

“How so?” Her voice is tight, and gods how is this woman real?

Regina smirks, “if you win you don’t have to pay me back.”

Emma sits up straight. “And if you win?” she asks, sound far harsher than she’d intended, because if Regina can simply afford to wipe the debt clean then certainly she could give Emma a little more leeway. Regina cocks a brow and rocks back on the seat, taking a moment to cool off from the tone of voice.

“If I win…” there’s a long pause, and Emma holds her breath, waiting for some terrible deed. When Regina’s face shows innocence, and she shrugs with a, “take me to dinner,” Emma almost falls off the chair.

“You…want me to take you to dinner?” Regina’s posture is as light hearted as her words, and the transformation is giving Emma whiplash.

“Perhaps your company was more enjoyable than I anticipated.”

Emma’s entire face flushes. No matter how this had come to pass, the crush she’d developed hadn’t disappeared into thin air. “I didn’t…erm, you like…what?” One of Regina’s eyebrows cocks so perfectly that Emma swallows then pulls in as much air as her lungs can manage.

Regina chuckles lightly, “is that a yes?”

“Erm-” her head shakes, but there’s no way she could refuse this offer. Mary Margaret would never let her off the hook for missing this chance. “Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath. “I’m in.”

Regina smirks and offers her hand. It’s small in her own, yet the handshake is firm, and the moment their eyes meet she’s uncertain whether she would prefer to win or lose.


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow managing to smoother down a grin Emma pulls two boxes from the freezer. “I have cheese or pepperoni,” she says, hitting the freezer door with her hip. Regina’s expression is priceless. She hovers in the doorway, far too overdressed in a tight skirt, blouse and heels compared to Emma’s casual jeans and a tank.

Regina blinks for a full thirty seconds before squawking out an, “you can’t be serious?”

“I never joke about pizza.” She tosses them on the kitchen counter before picking up another box. She holds it up with a grin. “Or wine. They’re sacred.”

“I can’t believe I showed up for this,” Regina says dryly, and Emma has to cough into her hand whilst wondering if this is the best day of her life. Beside the birth of her son, of course, but having Regina shuffling uncomfortably in the apartment is a close second.  

Emma winks, “maybe you should get better at making bets. You said dinner, there was nothing about excluding frozen pizza and boxed wine.” The shit-eating grin is enough for a slither of a smirk to pass across Regina’s otherwise stunned expression. “And I did tell you I’m hella broke.”

Regina nods curtly as if the message is finally getting across, hands clasped in front of her middle. Emma feels the eyes on the back of her as she switches on the oven and pours two glasses of wine. “You’re here now,” she says, and holds one up. Regina takes it and instantly brings it to her lips, draining half the glass. “Let’s see how it goes. If you hate it that much, you could always bitch to your friends about me afterwards.”

The cheeky grin makes Regina sigh and say, “pepperoni,” with an eye roll. “And I’m sure you’ll be bitching to your roommate once the night is through.”

“You mean bitch some more?” Emma says, grinning with a hand on her hip.

Regina doesn’t bother to hide her smile when she asks, “more?” and raises her brows. It was supposed to be judging, but Emma takes a sip of the wine before throwing the pizza into the oven and the other back in the freezer with a dismissive shrug.

“Not that it mattered,” Emma says, nodding her head towards the next room. “She was team Regina all the way,” and had jumped at the chance to make herself scarce for the evening.

“Perhaps I should’ve asked your roommate to take me to dinner.” Emma flops on the couch and Regina follows delicately, perched on the edge with the glass clasped between both palms. In between them is a stuffed animal, one she picks up with the tips of her fingers. “Yours, I presume?”

“Most definitely.”

Emma takes it from her with a tight smile and puts it on the coffee table in front of them. Most Henry’s toys live in his bedroom, and aside from the odd picture around the apartment there’s little evidence a three-year-old lives there. It hadn’t been on purpose, more like Emma had freaked out and decided the place needed to be spotless for her guest of honour.  

Regina chuckles softly and leans back a little with a deep sigh.

“So…” Emma shuffles and sips some wine, eyes firmly on the finger she taps against her knee. Shy isn’t something she would attribute to herself, but she’s not normally entertaining a beautiful woman. Not that she _wants_ to impress her; it would just help if she weren’t so insanely hot.

Regina places a hand on her thigh and squeezes. It’s only by the smallest of miracles the wine doesn’t end up spluttered over her chin. “You don’t have to be so nervous,” she says. “I came here of my own free will, and if I’m still here after knowing about the frozen pizza-” her eyebrows raise as she tips her head suggestively.   

“If you have a problem with frozen pizza, you’re not human.”

“Because I prefer my pizza ordered instead of coming from a box?”

“Yup. Frozen pizza is my trusty friend,” and she’s only half joking. The meagre amounts of cash had saw to it frozen pizza is a frequent meal. Emma’s mouth opens and stays that way when Regina flings one leg over the other revealing Prada heels. The only reason she knows the brand is because of the time Ruby had dragged her shopping then fawned over them until almost fainting over the price.

“I’ve…never had it,” she admits quietly.

There’s a world of difference between them, one Emma swallows down and winks, “it’s a good thing you’ve got me to help you on that score.”

“I’m sure.” Regina smiles then places her hands by her sides to push her to the back of the couch. Emma doesn’t say anything further, simply watches her and engrains the image of this woman in her apartment. Then she faces her and widens her smile. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

“Oh, erm…hitting me with the hard one,” she says, chuckling awkwardly. Her mind comes up with half a dozen things she could tell Regina, but each time she goes to speak it goes blank.

“It doesn’t have to be your entire life story,” she whispers. “Why don’t we start with music?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I love everything really.” One of Regina’s eyebrows arches and Emma chuckles, “I know it’s cliché. I don’t literally love _everything_ , but anything that makes me feel _something_.” This time she nods, and the smile has a flutter spring to life in Emma’s chest.

“I understand that,” she says softly.

“I mean the genres I listen to range from soft rock to the latest pop songs or rap or electronic or post hardcore. Journey or Paramore or Mariana and the Diamonds and even a bit of Britney Spears.” Regina’s entire body rocks as if nodding enthusiastically.

“I like your selection. Though I must add Jazz onto that list. The right type, it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, there’s the odd thing I like.”

“Do you have a favourite song, Emma?” she asks, takes a sip of the wine then flings one leg over the other.

Emma’s head shakes, “there’s too many to choose.”

“The first song that comes into your head then.”

“To build a home,” she says, “it came out when I was a teenager, a few years after leaving the system. It’s by this English electronic group and-” she grabs for her phone and scans through her playlist. She taps the screen, “listen,” then places it between them.

The gentle melody begins. “It’s very slow, and soft,” Regina says, but Emma only hums, head down and allows the music to sift through her body. It had always remained a personal song, but she’d hoped Regina might understand something about the power it could hold.

With her eyes still down, Emma says quietly, “I used to imagine what it would be like to have a home. Someone to come home to. It was my own form of personal torture,” she says, chuckling wetly, “I used to listen to it on a loop.” Sometimes in a ball with tear tracks on her cheeks, wondering why she couldn’t have been raised within a home with parents to return to.

“It’s a beautiful song. I think…” she takes a deep breath and another sip of the wine. “I never felt as if I was at home when I was growing up. I know it might sound ungrateful, but my mother-” she visibly swallows, and Emma has to push down on any misplaced resentment. “Let’s say she saw me more of a possession to be manipulated than as a daughter.”

“Wow I’m…” the change in song cuts her off. A hand on top of her own stops her from turning it off.

“Let me hear the real you.”

Emma nods, the openings to Hayley Kiyoko’s Gravel to Tempo. “I just started listening to her,” she says with a shrug. “I like this song.”

Regina hums and listens. “I think I do too,” she says, “I’ve been meaning to listen to her songs.”

“You should. I know she’s a little younger than us, but I wish I’d had someone like her growing up.”

“Me too.”

The weight within the room intensifies, and their eyes lock in shared understanding and sadness. Of a childhood lost to them, of teenage years wasted. “I’m guessing your family wasn’t supportive?” she asks carefully, not sure if this is a safe topic of discussion for a first non-date that occurred because of a bet.

“They didn’t support anything I did with my life,” she says, the words tumbling free like they had been rehearsed.

“What? Not even the DJing?” At Regina’s nod, Emma’s eyes widen. She laughs incredulously, “but you’re incredible!” The definition of beetroot is an understatement. Emma pushes her lips together as the memory of Mary Margaret’s cunning smile and the way she had told her to control the gay comes to the forefront of her mind. “I heard a few of your mixes from the last competition,” she mumbles. It’s far from smooth and she considers sliding into the gaps in the couch all over again.

All Regina does is nod her head graciously, with a, “thank you.”

It sets alarm bells off in her mind, but before she can dig herself into a giant hole the timer on the oven beeps. She turns off the music, dives up, a foot stepping onto a pillow. Her arms flail as she stumbles forwards, and almost falls flat on her face. Whoever had left the pillow on the floor is going to be on the end of a stern talking to. Except she doesn’t feel like staring at herself in the mirror and reminding herself to check every spot before pretty ladies enter the apartment. “For the love of-” she chucks it onto the couch.

Regina grins smugly. “I can see how you damaged my car.” Then she has the audacity to laugh. Emma grabs the pillow then throws it at her head. Regina lifts her forearms and for a moment sits still and blinks once. A second later it flies back at her head.

“Rudeness,” she mutters, throws it backs then makes a break for it.

“I think you’ll find you’re the rude one,” Regina calls back. Emma’s laugh travels from the kitchen and the sound stirs something in Regina that she hadn’t expected. She discards of her heels and slowly tiptoes around the small room, taking note of the book on the coffee table – some trashy romance, and runs her eyes over the pictures on the wall.

There’s a few years difference between the pictures of the small boy, Emma, and who she presumes is the other woman in the apartment. He ages through them, and there’s a grin on her face by the time she reaches one where there’s a huge chocolate stain around his mouth. “That’s Henry,” the voice calls from behind, and Regina turns to the sight of Emma holding two plates.

“He’s very sweet.” Emma hums in agreement, waiting for Regina to ask more, but instead she picks up the book with a judging eye.

“That,” she says pointedly, “is my roommate’s.” Regina flicks through the pages with raised brows, and yup, she doesn’t believe her. “Are we going to eat pizza or are you going to continue to presume I wouldn’t be caught dead reading one of those?”

Regina places it down with a sly smile. “Mr Grey will see you now,” she says in a deep voice, and Emma almost flings the pizza at her head.

Now, if they weren’t so terrible and there was a woman involved with _that_ voice then she might be inclined to see them. As it stands, “nope. No way. If you’ve seen them you don’t get pizza.”

“Oh, thank god.” Regina flops onto the couch and closes both eyes in what might have been an attempt at winking.

Emma grits her teeth and hands her a plate. “You’re the worst,” she says, “you’ll only redeem yourself if you like it.” Regina rolls her eyes and sits up straight before picking up the slice of pizza delicately. The way she scrunches her nose and examines it has Emma shoving half a slice into her own mouth to muffle sound.

Eventually she takes the tiniest bite of the end and tips her head to the side. “Not bad,” she admits, then takes a larger bite.

Emma grins, “told ya,” and nudges her arm, “you’re back in my good books.”

“Yippie me.”

Emma bites her lip and catches Regina’s eyes. It’s soft and sweet, and gods, she had half expected her to remain uptight and perched on the edge of the couch or make a run for it before the pizza had made it to the oven. “Wanna put on a movie?”

“Are you trying to court me?” she asks, voice sultry and she flings her hair over one shoulder with a smirk.

“With a movie?” Emma flicks on the TV and heads straight for Netflix. “Who the hell have you been dating? You need higher standards.” Regina looks stricken and it’s beyond hilarious. Especially when the snort follows. Emma doesn’t know who’s more surprised by the sound.

Regina tugs on her jacket and clears her throat. “Are you always this childlike?”

“Yup.” The way Emma grins becomes infectious. “What would you like to watch, your royal highness?” Emma hands over the controller and finishes off the last of her pizza. Each finger finds its way into her mouth. By the time she’s done she finally catches the way Regina is staring, which…gods, did she find that attractive or repulsive? The last thing Emma wants is to ask, so she shrugs and grabs Regina’s empty plate.

“It wasn’t quite as stale as I imagined it would be.” Emma winks and can hear the tease in her tone of voice. She returns with the box of wine and refills their glasses. “What are in you in the mood for?”

Emma almost says _you_ but pushes her lips together and shrugs. Regina might not take it as the joke it’s supposed to be. “Anything. Maybe something I’m not going to ugly cry over.”

Regina chuckles with her eyes glued to the screen and promptly switches to the children’s section. “This more your genre?”

“Hey, children’s is better than…those.” Regina’s eyes roll so far into the back of her head Emma doesn’t know if they’ll return to normal ever again.  

There’s a sly look in Regina’s eye, “considering we’re going with the royalty theme,” she says, and hits play on _The Princess Diaries._

“You’ll only get jealous.” Emma crosses her arms and leans back against the couch, one foot propped up on the coffee table. Regina stays silent, and when she doesn’t ask why, “I have a major crush on Anne Hathaway” slips free, but then her nose crinkles. “I was young when I first watched it,” she says, feeling the need to explain. “I wouldn’t _now._ I mean I do, but not in this-” she grabs the discarded pillow and presses it to her face with a loud groan.

It’s tugged on lightly, and Regina’s grinning face is brought into view. “You’re adorable when you get flustered,” and the statement makes Emma press the pillow back to her face, completely missing the way Regina’s cheeks tint a rosy colour and she shuffles awkwardly. “I don’t know about you, but I usually can’t watch a movie if a pillow is blocking my eyes.”

How in the world is she behind the pillow again because of this woman? If Mary Margaret were to ever find out she’d never hear the end of it. Slowly, she lowers it and cuddles it to her chest. She pouts, “stop making me flustered then,” and cringes all over again. When Regina twists her head and smiles softly, her heart flutters wildly in her chest.

“What if I don’t want to?” and Emma knows that instant she’s a goner. There’s no hope for it. Not when Regina is a million times different to what she had been expecting, and well, she’s hotness on legs.

Emma shrugs. “Shut up,” but then she’s shuffling a little closer and only stops a few inches from their thighs touching.

“Hmm, I don’t think I will,” she says, but then she’s turning to face the movie and grabs for her wine. Emma can’t help it when she watches the way her lips press to the edge of her glass instead of Mia on the screen being a complete mess, which coincidently, isn’t nearly as close as the mess Emma is making of herself.

Her tongue swipes along her lips when Regina catches her gaze. She whips her head back to the TV screen and concentrates on the movie. They adjust themselves throughout the movie, shuffling and altering positions, and Emma swears she almost faints when a side of a delicious thigh presses against her own.

Then the sides of their arms are touching, and Regina bounces back up with an apologetic smile, “sorry,” she mutters, but Emma shakes her head with an, “it’s fine,” and very graciously places her out stretched arm on the back of the couch. It wasn’t supposed to be an invitation, but not five minutes later Regina is shuffling again until her arm is squashed against Emma’s side.

This time she flips her hair and alters her body until she’s basically using Emma as a pillow. Forget the movie, or Mia’s princess lessons. There’s a warm, very attractive body leaning against her, and how exactly is she supposed to concentrate on anything else? The worst part is that it appears Regina hasn’t even realised that they’re practically cuddling. Not even when she leans her head down until it rests on Emma’s shoulder.

The swarm of butterflies hits Emma’s stomach, chest quivering and the need to pull her in closer intensifies. She’s so _warm_ and she wants that warmth everywhere. Except she knows that this isn’t something more than what it is, which is a fake-date on the heels of a bet. So, she leaves her hand gripping tightly to the back of the couch and does not encourage her further.

That is until she reaches forwards to hit pause on the remote. Regina’s eyes grow wide as she’s jolted from the position, the screen frozen on Mia crying in her car as the rain pelts down. “Sorry,” Emma mutters, but the faint cries become apparent. “Sorry,” she says again, mind already elsewhere.

The little whimpers of, “mommy,” have her following as if compelled by a magnet. She gently pushes open the bedroom door and leaves it ajar so the light can shine in the otherwise darkened room.

“Hey, bud,” she says softly, sitting down on his bed. He stirs and wiggles onto his side, eyes half closed as Emma reaches over to rub his back. “Shh,” she coos, only hoping that he’ll easily return to sleep. Nothing works out so well, of course, for his little eyes flutter open and the scream hits instantly. “Come on, kid-” she hoists him up and places him on her hip, his head falling to her shoulder.

When he starts to calm down, she kisses his temple. “Are we going to get you back to sleep?” but he shakes his head and fists her shirt, and Emma knows she’ll need to take him from his room for the time being. As much as she didn’t want Henry meeting a stranger, she has little choice but to grab his favourite stuffed animal and walk him back into the front room.

“Everything alright?” Regina asks, eyeing the small child.

Emma nods and sits down with Henry on her lap. “Mommy,” he says, rubbing the elephant against his nose. Regina’s eyebrows raise, but Emma ignores it for the time being. “I have a drink pwease?”

“Coming right up, bud.” She gently places him on the couch, smiling tightly at Regina. “Keep an eye on him for me? I’ll be two minutes.”

Regina nods, not given any other choice as Emma walks into the kitchen. “Hello,” she says diplomatically when his huge hazel eyes find hers. “I like your elephant.” He holds it closer to his chest and sniffles. At a loss, Regina sighs when Emma comes rushing back in with a juice cup. He takes it with one hand and slurps through the straw.

“Sorry,” Emma says again, “he usually sleeps through the night.”

“That’s quite alright, dear.” Regina is a little stiff, and Emma’s heart slowly plummets. The evening had been nice, but, “I didn’t know he was yours.”

“Yeah.” She sits by Henry and ruffles his hair. “You okay kid?”

He side eyes the strange woman and something connects in his mind. He tilts closer to Emma, and attempts to whisper, “is dat the mean, pwetty lady?” but it’s loud enough that everyone from there to Mars heard.

Emma is about to apologise when Regina chuckles, a slight sparkle in her eyes. “You really did complain about me?”

Emma shrugs a shoulder, smiling sheepishly. “Told you I did.”

Regina simply rolls her eyes then reaches for the stuffed animal that she’d seen earlier. “I guess this isn’t yours after all,” she says, before offering the toy to Henry. “Your mommy told me this was hers,” and her tone is filled with a fake conspiracy that earns her a tiny grin on Henry’s face.

He gasps and takes it. “Not mommy’s. It mine!”

Now with his two stuffed animals and a juice cup his little arms are full. Regina melts at the sight and lifts her soft expression to Emma. “He’s very cute.”

“Until he keeps you up all night,” she whispers over his head. “Think you’re ready for bed, Henry?” He bites his lip, so Emma gives him her best stern expression. Anything could have woken him, but he doesn’t appear to be sick, so the only thing left is to cart him off to bed. “Come on, kid. We know what not getting enough sleep does.”

More like Emma knows she’ll have an extremely moody child on her hands come tomorrow morning. “Say goodnight to the mean, pretty lady,” she says, winking at Regina.

Henry shuffles towards Emma and reluctantly says, “night, night,” before he’s picked back up and safely in his mother’s arms. Something must have been in her corner because it doesn’t take him too long to drift back off to sleep. Emma returns to the front room to the sight of Regina scrolling through her phone with a glass in her hand.  

“Hey,” she says softly, “sorry about-”

Regina lifts her palm. “You don’t have to apologise,” and the knot in Emma’s gut loosens. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a son? I presumed he was your roommates’.”

“I dunno.” Emma plonks back down, one foot tucked beneath her knee. “We don’t know each other that well, I guess, and I suppose I’m a little protective.”

“That’s understandable,” she says, and takes Emma’s hand. Her fingers are gently squeezed and kneaded as if Regina needs them to anchor herself. Not that she’s complaining.  “Do you…want to talk about it? I mean, I don’t know whether his father is around. Or am I hitting on topics that are too personal?”

“A little. Wanna finish the movie?” Emma asks, receiving a nod as she hits play.

The rest of the movie continues with them sitting with space between them. Emma can’t say she isn’t a little disappointed, but not surprised. Once it’s over Regina sits herself upright with a shy smile, and after asking where the bathroom is comes back and instantly grabs for her bag. “I’ll get going,” she says, “I’m sure you’ll be up early in the morning with Henry.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you out.”

Emma walks Regina to the door, leaning against it with a warm smile. “I know this only came on the heels of a bet,” she says, and surprisingly there’s a light chuckle in return. “I mean, who wouldn’t want to date me.” Emma gestures at her body and raises a suggestive brow.

“You think far too highly of yourself, dear,” comes the fiery reply, but there’s far more amusement laced with the tone.

“I get that dating someone with a kid isn’t high on anyone’s to-do list, but…maybe we could try for friends?”

It’s comical the way Regina’s eyes blow wide open, and it causes a splash of regret. Except the, “you thought we could be friends?” is said as if Regina has a lump in her throat and the shine in her eyes catches Emma off guard.

Emma shrugs, “why not?” and goes to reach out before reminding herself that certain things should be off limits when she’s advocating for _friends._ “We can beat the odds.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, “I can’t say I’m great at this.” There’s a wet chuckle, and Regina clasps her hands together in front of her middle. It’s so off brand to the formidable woman Emma had been privy to recently.

“Yeah. Me neither.” Emma runs her fingers through her hair and bites her lips through the awkward silence that follows. “And I’ll pay you back.” All $460 that she’ll have to magic out of thin air.

“Oh-” Regina’s mouth opens then closes before a shake to her head follows. “We can work something out. If you need more time.”

Emma almost sags in relief. “Thank you.” Another silence washes between them and the air is charged with energy that’s easier to ignore than act upon. “Would you want to grab coffee some time?” It seems like a safe enough idea. “You already have my number.”

“That I do.” Regina’s tongue pokes out to wet her lips, and Emma spends longer staring at it than she probably should. It’s so…enticing, and she’s stunning and Emma reminds herself there’s no use in hoping for something that’ll never come to pass. Even if the woman had spent an evening using her as a cushion, eating frozen pizza and drinking wine. “I can give you a call.”

“I’ll answer this time.”

Regina smirks, and it causes an instant stream of butterflies. “You better, Miss Swan,” she says, and her name sounds like a purr from those lips. The butterflies travel south, and Emma dutifully ignores _that._ “Thank you for the evening. I had a surprisingly good time.”

“Me too,” she says softly, and there’s a little blush creeping up her neck at the eyes that are intensely glued to her own. “I’ll…see you soon then.”

When Regina nods followed by the clipping of her heels towards the exit, Emma shuts the door and flops back against it. Her stomach is in knots from a mixture of anxiety and complete euphoria. Never in a million years had she imagined Regina Mills would look twice at her, and although it had been an unfortunate reason why she had to, Regina had been in her apartment and had had a _good time._ Apparently, she managed to solve the problem after all.


	4. Chapter 4

_Regionals_

The hotel lobby must be a good three times the size of her apartment, and she had spent the first thirty minutes after her arrival with a look of awe. That had shifted after she’d reach the front of the check-in line. Her face is sullen when she swivels around, dodges the groups of people still waiting then wrestles with her elbows to barge past the crowd. She plonks on the squishy couch, wondering why she didn’t book a cheaper hotel. The lobby has a chandelier, flowers everywhere, and people walking around in business suits. She can’t help but think this isn’t the place for the likes of _her_.

The glass table opposite has a gold rim around the edges, and any thoughts of putting her feet up are immediately squashed. Her mood is sour when she feels a prickle at the back of her neck before a purr of, “Miss Swan,” has hairs standing up along her arms. The rhythmic clipping follows, and with a grin and a swagger unmatched by anyone, Regina stops in front of the couch.

Her mood momentarily lifts at the tight pantsuit. The grey blazer is fitted perfectly, a single button attaching it over her stomach, and a few more buttons undone at the top of her blouse expose a small amount of cleavage. Regina’s short hair rests on her shoulders and she flicks it out before offering Emma a smile. “We meet again,” she says, and the tightness of her pantsuit has nothing on the lump in her throat.

Emma swallows thickly, then manages a small chuckle when she says, “yeah,” as if they hadn’t been messaging non-stop for the past few weeks. Her face drops a half second later.

“Everything okay?” Regina asks, perching on the arm of the couch and places a hand on Emma’s shoulder. When it squeezes she almost whimpers and asks her to leave it there. If that wouldn’t make her seem overly pathetic. She nods with a stiff smile, but Regina’s brow raises, and that hand rubs the top of her back. “You can tell me.”

She lowers her eyes before mumbling, “my card got declined,” whilst twiddling her fingers in her lap. There should have been enough money in her account to pay for the hotel, but she’d forgotten to double check after the medicine she’d had to buy when Henry had gotten sick last week.

Regina lets out a long breath, fingers gently digging in to Emma’s shoulder. “They wouldn’t let you check in?” Emma shakes her head, unable to look up and see the sympathy. “Do you have anyone else here?”

The only person she’d thought of is Ruby, but she hadn’t gotten around to admitting her failures. Her shoulders lift then fall, “not really.”

“Stay with me.”

“What?” Emma’s eyes startle and her head’s already shaking, but her heart actually accelerates and almost encourages her to say yes right away. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s already paid for, and plus, I’m alone this weekend. It’s no problem.” It _is_ a problem, because a make-upless, pyjama-wearing, curled-up-in-bed Regina will likely send her spiralling. “I can see if they have a twin available.”

Her mouth opens and a million reasons spring to life demanding she shake her head. “I wouldn’t know how to repay you,” she says instead, because this competition could lead to many amazing opportunities. Too many for her pride to get in the way of. 

“Give me a good fight out there.” Regina smirks with a raised brow. “It’ll be much more satisfying to win if I have good competition.”

“Who says I won’t beat you?”

Her smirk grows, and she shrugs with little commitment, “we’ll see, Miss Swan.” Then she’s up and adjusting her bag. “Mind watching this while I check-in?”

“Sure.”

Regina swaggers away with far too much flare in her hips for Emma’s eyes not to take a sneaky peek. Reminding herself not to act like a sexual fiend she pulls out her phone and allows her fingers to have the freak out the rest of her is having internally. **Omfg MM** she types, **good news, flights to Antarctica are no longer required. My dumb ass blonde self is sharing a room with REGINA. If I don’t come back my heart exploded from gayness.**

Emma’s breath is shaky when the reply pings. **Emma. You can’t go around following people into their hotel rooms. Being a gay mess is not a valid excuse.**

 **Hey!** Emma chuckles, hoping the metaphorical pillow throw is implied. **I miscalculated my funds. It’s not a problem though. Regina offered to let me stay with her!!**

**Hmm. I hope she knows what she’s getting herself into. For the love of all things holy if you return with something of Regina’s because it smells like her, it gives me permission to burn it.**

**You’re the meanest roommate ever.** Emma bites her lip and adds the emoji to flip Mary Margaret off. It’s the least she deserves. She receives one back as Regina hits the front of the line. **Tell Henry I love him.**

**Will do. Good luck out there.**

Emma sends a quick thanks and a kissing emoji before shoving the phone in her bag. Regina smiles and hands Emma a key card. “We’re stuck with the double I booked,” she says, “ready to head up?”

It is real then. On the way up, Emma’s mind goes through a dozen different thoughts she doesn’t want to give a name to. “I can just crash on the floor,” she says as they step out of the elevator. Regina gives her this _you can’t be serious_ look then promptly ignores her the rest of the way to the room. She pushes the door open to reveal the suit. A fucking suit with a mini-fridge and everything. “Or I can sleep on the sofa,” she says, because that is one nice looking sofa.  

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Regina walks into the room, suitcase trailing behind her. Emma shuts the door by pushing her backside against it and gawks. To the left there’s a door that no doubt leads to the bathroom. Further along there’s a giant bed covered by a ridiculous amount of pillows and storage space on the right side of it. The window to the side of the bed is huge and overlooks the city. Going further along the wall is a set of double doors. “There’s a balcony?” she asks, walking past the couch, coffee table and mini-fridge on the right. She pokes her nose against the glass doors and marvels.

“Indeed.” Regina watches her with amusement when she goes around the room and checks out everything. “You’re like an overexcited child,” she quips, “though why I’m surprised I don’t know.”

Emma turns after accessing the mini-fridge situation and shrugs with a sheepish smile. “This is the nicest hotel room I’ve ever seen.” Plus, the colours are a classy silver and light purple, and there’s even a small vase of flowers on the coffee table.

“I prefer sleeping closest to the window, if you don’t mind?” Regina asks, unpacking her case and placing some of her clothes away.

“Oh yeah, that’s cool.”

Not cool. So far from cool; they’re sharing a bed? She screams internally and goes a lovely shade of red. The only upside to any of this is that Regina’s back is to her and she can quickly escape into the bathroom before she notices.

The towels are folded up neatly beneath the sink. She brushes her hands over them, the softness gentle against the tips of her fingers. She’s never been so excited to take a shower in all her life. A shower. Regina will have to take a shower. She splashes water over her face to get that thought out of her brain. If Regina emerges in one of those towels and nothing else, then Emma will fulfil her duty as a gay mess and run from the room screaming to give her some privacy.

She comes back out a little calmer. “Did you want to unpack?” Regina asks, but Emma’s eyes are on the bed. She bites her lip, ignoring the way Regina crosses her arms. She runs and dives into the air, twisting so she lands on her back. She bounces up half an inch before flopping back down, stomach flipping and giggles.

She tips her chin up to catch Regina’s overdramatic eye roll. “Thank you,” she mutters, “comfiest bed ever!”  

“You’re welcome.” The bed dips when Regina claims a part, palm flat and pressed into the cover. “So…unpacking?”

“Nah. I didn’t bring that much stuff.”

“Then do you want to head down? We could grab a drink and then go somewhere for dinner. It’s my turn to pay you back.”

Emma’s nose crinkles, “pay me back? Like suggesting the worst restaurant on the planet?”

“No,” she chuckles, “I’ll pay, considering you did pay for us last time. Whether it was frozen pizza or otherwise.”

“You don’t have to do that.” There’s no way she can let her do that, not when she already owes her so much. “I can just grab something from…somewhere.”

“Nonsense.”

Emma’s shoulders curl in on herself. She pushes onto her elbows with a shy smile and a blush creeping up her neck. “Okay,” she mutters, because dinner _twice_ has her stomach in knots with thoughts of ‘friends go to dinner’ but ‘what if…?’

 

* * *

 

The bar is almost as stunning as the woman walking by her side. It’s _huge_ and would easily hold a few hundred people. Getting in before the late-night crowd are a few women in dresses, holding straws between their lips and men in shirts with beer bottles in their hands as they dance at the back of the room. Lights flash over that area then soften towards where the bar runs along the back wall. The music isn’t too overpowering here, but she imagines they must increase the volume later into the night. Stools run along the length of the bar, and a few are already occupied by people chatting and sipping on cocktails.

They stop at two that are free, and Emma pulls herself onto it with a look of awe. The men and woman working behind the bar are dressed in suits, and the amount of alcohol along the wall and in mini-fridges must be enough for a small army. “What would you like to drink?” Regina asks, sliding onto the stool. She had changed into a leather red dress for the evening and the way it tightens around her thighs has Emma’s mind momentarily freezing as she shrugs and mutters out something incoherent as a response.

It’s not until she looks up and Regina subtly lowers her eyes the ripple in her tank top that her mind jump-starts. “Erm…anything,” she stammers, mind working extra hard to think up a suitable response. “Ready for tomorrow?” she asks eventually, a safe territory to explore.

Regina’s eyes sparkle and blaze with fire when she tips her chin forwards. “Oh, I am more than ready.” There’s a purr to her voice that runs through Emma’s body and has her shifting uncomfortably. “Did you get this far last year?” she asks.

Emma shrugs, “got knocked out this round.”

“Shame,” she says, but the smirk contrasts those words. “Perhaps if you’d done better last year you never would have damaged my car.”

Emma flushes, biting down on the grin and drops her eyes to the bar, drawing patterns over the spilled water with her finger. “Yeah,” she says quietly. “As long as I don’t end up in battle this year. I’d rather go out than go through that again.”

“You are aware that semis include a battle, right?” Her arm is nudged gently before Regina calls over the bartender. “I’ll have two pink gin spritz’ please.”

“You don’t-”

“You’ll love it.” Regina smiles at her with soft eyes. “Trust me.” Emma nods without hesitation. Her shoulder is bumped for a second time and Emma almost giggles like a schoolgirl.

Two large glasses appear with a fizzy pink liquid inside. Regina slides her card over the bar then delicately wraps her lips around the tiny straw. She connects their gaze when she slurps and the liquid slithers up into her mouth. Emma licks her lips, chest heaving. “You’ve never had pink gin?” she asks with an arch of her brow.

Emma shakes her head before placing the straw into her mouth. When the sweet fizzy drink hits her tongue, she hums, “that’s really nice,” and takes another slurp. She’d tried gin and hated it, but as Regina had said, this was good. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, dear.” The bartender hands Regina her card with a curt nod before moving along. Emma tracks its movements as Regina slips it back into a pocket on the inside of her tiny apple-shaped purse.

She shuffles a little then takes another sip of the drink then sighs in satisfaction. “Yeah, I know there’s a battle,” she says, answering Regina’s earlier question, deciding against commenting on the cute accessory. “But it’s different. In this you battle for a place amongst people who are already better than you.” Instead of drowning in the nerves she pulls the straw back between her lips. It slurps. Regina chuckles, the sound travelling through Emma’s veins quicker than any alcohol could.  

Regina places her elbow on the bar then props her chin into her palm. “And who said you couldn’t beat those people?” she asks, twisting her body towards Emma. “One round doesn’t dictate the next.”

“I know,” she says on a sigh, because she had regretted how she had handled things for an entire year. It’s only now she isn’t so defeated over those choices. “I think I got a bit bummed last year, you know?”

Regina reaches out to place a hand over Emma’s wrist, wrapping her fingers around it. “At least you’ve gotten another chance,” she says softly, squeezes then retracts the touch. “Would you like to freshen up or are you ready to go once we’ve finished our drinks?”

Emma looks down at herself with a shrug. There wasn’t much point in changing when most of the clothes she had brought were to the same standard as her current ones. Regina tips towards her, and hot breath spreads over her neck when she whispers, “you look good as you are,” and lowers her eyes to the cleavage on display. She sits up with a satisfied smirk.

She feels the hot breath on her neck as if it is still there. She chuckles nervously, “so do you,” and a splurge of butterflies hit her gut. Regina is _gorgeous,_ and that dress is doing a number on Emma’s head.

They leave shortly after, walking down the streets of Boston long after the sky had darkened. Street lights, and a faint shine from the sky illuminates their path. When a group of people walk towards them, Regina tugs on Emma’s arm until their shoulders are squished together as they walk. Regina smiles then slides her hands into the pockets of her long black coat.

After the group pass and Emma has no idea where they’re heading, she turns to Regina. “So, where are you taking me?” she asks, her body light and smile easy. Regina doesn’t say anything, just shrugs a shoulder with a smug look. “I still think you’re going to take me to some place terrible.” That thought is put on hold when Regina directs them around the corner to a secluded building. Emma gapes.

Regina’s chuckle is sultry. “You really believed I was going to take you to a restaurant that only serves squid?” she asks, slipping her arm through Emma’s.

It’s a wonder that her feet move at all. There’s outside decking with tables and chairs that are mostly occupied by couples. A few larger tables with groups are dotted around, but even they have flickering candles and perfectly arranged napkins on them. Lights are connected by a wire that travels in circles around a wooden archway they walk beneath, white and red roses on either side of it. The wire with the little lights continues down the path towards the entrance, and around the building to light up the outside area.

“Regina,” she whispers, glancing up with a gleam in her eyes. It’s too much, most likely one of those restaurants where the prices aren’t included on the menu.

“Come on,” she drags her inside, arms still linked, and they wait behind a small stand. The room might as well blur out, along with anything that is happening, because the next thing Emma knows is they’re sat at a table in a corner, a candle lit between them and a menu in front of her. “See anything you like?”

“Erm…” she glances around the room, taking note of the couples with their hands clasped over the table. Was this supposed to be a real date and she didn’t know it? Or was she reading too much into this? “Have you been here before?” she asks, trying to gauge information without making herself look like a fool.

“A few times. I like it here.” That answers that then, but it doesn’t answer anything really. “Order anything you like, darling.”

Emma hitches a breath, nods then pulls the menu to her face. _Fuck._ Her fingers itch to crawl along the table and brush along Regina’s. Except she knows she’s being presumptuous. She focuses on the menu and the wide range of food available. “They do chicken strips and fries?” She pops her head around the menu with a sheepish smile. “I thought it would be hors d’oeuvres and oysters.”

“They have those too.” Regina’s fingers drum against the table with a bemused smile. “They might even have a children’s menu at special request.”

“For you,” is her muttered reply.

The menu is pulled from her so Regina can raise her brows. “Excuse me, dear. I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I forgot how irritating you are,” she says, playfully jutting out her bottom lip.  

“You’re more than welcome to have chicken strips and fries. I might even throw in a side of onion rings if it’ll stop you from pouting.”

Emma grins, “deal.”

The waiter comes over and takes Emma’s order first, then when Regina orders a deluxe burger Emma almost falls off her chair. Regina frowns at the wide-eyed expression. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, you’re gorgeous. I just wasn’t expecting you to order a burger,” she says, to which Regina coughs and the tips of her fingers brush along her neck. The sultry look Emma receives knocks the wind right out of her. It takes Emma a good thirty seconds to realise what she had said. “But burgers are great and all,” she mumbles.

Regina takes a calculated breath. “Don’t tell anyone else, but they’re my favourite.” Emma winks. “Oh look-” she picks up her napkin and holds it for Emma to see.

“It’s a swan!” Emma smiles excitedly.

“Exactly,” she says, their eyes meeting across the table. It’s gently placed back down before Regina sighs then rest her arms upon the table. “Are you nervous for tomorrow?”

“A little,” she lies, knowing full well she hardly slept last night and most likely won’t tonight. “What are you playing in your sets?”

“Now that would be telling.”

“You really think I would change my sets last minute?”

“Perhaps,” she says, drawing out the word. Her arms cross on the table and she leans forwards, “the only reason you’re here is to steal my ideas.”

“And why should I believe you don’t want to steal mine?”

“You asked the question.”

Emma chuckles, “oh, right.”

For the remainder of the evening they make small talk and eat their way through the delicious meals. Emma had never tasted anything so good. She’d even allowed Regina to steal one of her chicken strips even though she wants to eat these and only these strips for all of eternity. They decide against desert, instead heading back to the bar for another drink.

“Thank you, Regina,” Emma says, bumping her hip as they walk down the street. “That was lovely.”

“You’re welcome. Who knew your company would be more than dismal?” she teases, bumping her hip right back. “Would you like to sit on the roof once we’ve got our drinks?”

“The roof?”

Regina flings her hair over one shoulder with a smirk. It’s how they end up with another drink of pink gin and soda water, sat with their backs pressed to the concrete wall on the hotel roof. There’s not much of a view, and there’s a slight breeze in the air, but Regina had sat down and pressed the sides of the bodies together. It more than makes up for any discomfort.

“So,” Emma says, “what would you do with the money if you win?” An entire fifty thousand dollars. The amount makes her dizzy.

Regina’s eyebrows pop up, “loaded question.”

“Why?” she asks, the possibility of owning so much money more of a fantasy than anything tangible.  “I’ll tell you what I’d do. I’d pay off all my debts then buy a nice house for me and Henry and go grocery shopping and buy the expensive brands and I’d go on a shopping spree and buy us new clothes, and him toys, and I’d pay Mary Margaret back and find her somewhere nice to live. Or maybe she could still live with us, if she wants.”

“That’s quite a list.” Regina chuckles, tugging at the bottom of her dress. _A house, clothes, food,_ and here she is holding a few hundred dollars over Emma’s head. “Do you mind me asking about your debt?”

“Nah. Didn’t have health insurance when I had Henry. Giving birth costs _a lot_ of money.” A ridiculous astounding amount, even if she’d had insurance. “I was twenty-four, working a minimum wage job that hardly paid for the crappy apartment I was staying in. The guy wasn’t in the picture. I got myself in over ten thousand dollars of debt. Did you know an abortion cost like four hundred dollars?”

Regina sits with her mouth slightly parted and blinking slowly. “I…didn’t know that. Wow.”

Emma tugs at a loose piece of material on her jeans. “I hate myself for considering it,” she says. “He’s worth all the debt in the world.”

“You were in a difficult situation.” Her face softens when she gently taps Emma’s knee. “No one would’ve blamed you.”

“Maybe-” she shrugs, not sure why she’s bringing this up now. “I thought about adoption too,” she whispers.

Regina throws an arm around her shoulder and grips her upper arm. “Like I said, no one would have blamed you.” She squeezes Emma’s arm when she visibly swallows. “What changed your mind?”

Emma sighs, the arm more comforting than she would have thought. “Holding him,” she says, dropping her head to Regina’s shoulder as the memory spreads to the expression on her face. “The moment he was in my arms there was nothing that could have taken him away from me. I just wish I could give him more.”

“He has your love. Having wealth doesn’t make up for not having a mother’s love.”

“I hope so.” There’s a beat of silence until Emma grimaces. “Sorry for lowering the mood,” she says, chuckling awkwardly. “So, what would you do with it?”

“I erm…I want to open a shelter or multiple, for women or people who suffered from domestic abuse or LBGT youth. I don’t have the fine details worked out, but I want to try and help them. Give them some place safe.” She takes a deep breath then tips her head to rest it against Emma’s.

“That’s so admirable,” she says. “Is there a reason why this, and not in another way?”

Regina hums, “erm…I grew up in a family that wasn’t progressive,” she says, and a silence stretches on where they’re cuddled up in the moonlight. Emma doesn’t want to push her to share details of what could be a painful past, but then Regina whispers, “I had nowhere else to go.”

It’s followed by a deep breath. “My mother didn’t accept me, and I tried to resist, but she made my life a living hell. She signed me up for classes to prevent me from attending events I wanted to, she sabotaged my friendships, the girl I was falling for suddenly vanished with no trace.” She swallows thickly then shuffles so her knees fall to the ground and her legs tuck beneath her. “I relented during my senior year. I did exactly as she asked and told myself I simply had to make it until I could escape to college.”

Emma bends her arm upwards and across her body to place her hand over the one Regina had on her arm. She squeezes it in a show of support.

“She introduced me to a man she deemed acceptable,” she says, voice lowering on each word. “I thought I could date him for show, avoid him, keep my mother off my back, but…” Emma’s stomach clenches, but she stays silent. “It wasn’t so easy. If I could have left I would have done.”

Regina’s breath comes in shaky when she sits up and puts a small amount of distance between them. “I think the shelters are a good idea,” Emma says, “and I’m sorry you were hurt, but it’s amazing how you want to use that to help other people.” Regina nods, head tipping back against the concrete wall. “Makes me sound selfish,” she mutters.

The thumb on her arm brushes along the leather jacket, firm enough for the pressure to fade through. “I wouldn’t say wanting a better life for you and your son is selfish.” She gives Emma one last squeeze before pulling her arm away. Emma breathes through the disappointment and berates herself at the same time.

“I suppose not,” she says, and twists her body. “To lighten the mood, and considering you put me on the spot last time,” Emma says, “do you have a favourite song?”

Regina frowns and tips her head back then lets out a long sigh, “it’s hard to choose.” She wraps her arms beneath her raised thighs. “The first song that I thought of was Flares by The Script. I don’t think it’s my favourite, but-”

“You must have thought of it for a reason.”

“Have you heard it?” she asks, head turning towards her.

Emma nods, “I loved that album. It was released three or four years ago, right?”

“Four.”  

Regina smiles tightly, and they stay within a comfortable silence. The night is black and grey clouds litter the sky, but for the moment they’re safe from it down pouring suddenly. Regina tips her head back against the rough wall and takes a shuddered breath.

“You okay?” There’s goose bumps trailing her skin, and Emma rubs up and down her arms, shuffling a little to try and steal some of Regina’s body heat. She nods, flicking something off her raised knee. “Was that the same year as when you last competed?”  

Regina swallows, and says, “yes,” thickly.

The last few years she had always wondered why Regina had left the scene suddenly, but never had she imagined she would have the opportunity to ask. Except she doesn’t know if she should. When another ten minutes have passed and they’d sipped their drinks but hadn’t said a word, Emma takes a breath and asks, “do you want to talk about it?” before she loses the nerve.

Regina stiffens, but then their eyes meet. She sighs, and with the out breath her body relaxes. A slight nod follows Regina twisting at an angle to lean against Emma’s side. “My…my father died,” she says, fingers twiddling above her raised knees.

“Regina, I’m so sorry,” but it sounds beyond cliché and so far, Regina had described a terrifying upbringing. “Were you close?” she asks instead, and there’s a miniscule nod in response.

“If I’d done as mother had asked I wouldn’t have missed out on so much time.” Emma takes note of the crease lines in her forehead and the way her mouth slackens when she turns to look at her. “It’s not something I often talk about.”

“You kind of already have.”

A tiny smile appears on Regina’s face. “I never returned after college, and if I hadn’t stayed away I would have had those last few years with him,” she whispers, eyes wet when she turns them on Emma. “I regret leaving, but I couldn’t live near my mother any longer.”

“Regina-” she shakes her head, “you couldn’t have known.”  

“I know, but he was one of the only bright spots I had growing up. I should have made an effort to keep in contact with him.”

Emma might only have a basic understanding of family relationships, but even now, twenty-eight years without her parents, there are times she longs for them. “You must have been in a difficult position. I can’t imagine any of that was easier for you.”

“Perhaps,” is all she says before offering a tight smile. “I think I’m going to head to bed,” she says, visibly swallowing. “Thank you for a lovely evening.”

Goose bumps trail Emma’s skin when Regina brushes some hair over Emma’s shoulder and then leans closer to press her lips against Emma’s cheek. The lingering kiss causes a flutter in her gut. “You don’t have to come back with me,” she says softly, “it’s up to you.”

“I can give you some time alone, if you’d prefer?” she asks, staying seated as Regina stands and tugs on her dress. She hadn’t meant for them to hit on such personal topics, but she likes that they had, and more so, that she hadn’t instantly clammed up.

Regina lowers her shining eyes to Emma, then smiles wryly. “I’d rather not be alone,” she admits, fingers tangling in front of her middle. Emma nods, and stands, offering silent support as they return to the hotel room.

 

* * *

 

After changing in almost silence, they slip into bed and Regina flicks off the light. The room envelops them in darkness, the blackout curtains a fabulous edition. Well, they would be if there wasn’t an alarm for 7am. “I had fun tonight,” Emma whispers, the covers rustling as she twists onto her side. Her hand slides beneath the pillow whilst the other is curled into her chest. She sighs, body relaxing into the mattress.

“As did I.”

Emma swallows when fingers brush against her cheek then wrap some hair behind her ear. Her eyes flutter closed when they stroke down her face. The touch is like a whisper before it’s retracted. Emma’s eyes open and follow the shadow of Regina. She flops onto her back, arms flopping above the covers and sighs loudly.

“You okay?” Emma asks her

“If you tell this to anyone I’ll deny ever knowing you.” Emma chuckles and shuffles herself closer. “I’m a little nervous.”

“And here I was thinking you were better than all of us mere mortals.” Regina’s arm flies over the bed with a pillow clenched in her hand. It lands on Emma’s head. She snorts then throws it to the ground. “That was rude.”

Regina’s chuckle causes Emma’s heart to do a flip. “There’s too many pillows,” she says, throwing another at Emma’s head. She bats it away, it thudding to the ground.

“And you have to aim them at my head?” The pillow assault is forgotten about when Regina twists and their legs brush beneath the covers. Her chest remains tight when Regina shuffles closer still, their feet coming to rest against each other’s.

“Someone has to knock some sense into that blonde head of yours,” she says, flops back onto her back with the side of her shoulder against Emma’s forearm. The touch burns and leaves Emma craving more. Her breath comes out shaky when she crawls her hand forwards then rests it against Regina’s bare arm.

Even within the darkness she can make out Regina scrunching her eyes. She brushes her thumb then wiggles until her forehead lightly touches Regina’s shoulder. The heat from her body radiates beneath the sheets, and Emma wants to roll around within it. Her stomach’s tight when she pushes up, tucks her shoulder beneath herself to rest her head lightly against Regina’s arm.

Emma squeezes her eyes, wanting to sob for some reason or another. Until Regina flinches. Feeling as if the touch had turned scolding Emma props herself onto one elbow with a muttered, “sorry.”

“Emma, I’m not…” she sighs again, sits up and adjusts the pillows before wiggling her body back down. “I needed to get comfortable,” she says, slipping an arm behind Emma’s back. “Lie back down.”

Regina’s palm dances over her back, and after a moment of hesitation, Emma lies on her side. Her cheek presses to Regina’s chest, legs bent and slightly spread apart. She tucks her arms into her body. “Sure this is okay?” she asks, her heart rate accelerating. Regina hums softly, the sound vibrating in her chest and into Emma’s body. Regina’s fingertips trace patterns on top of her arm then others find her thigh beneath the covers.

They run up and down about an inch each way, no higher than her mid-thigh and the touch is light and sensual. The sobbing feeling returns, and Emma’s eyes squeeze tightly in contrast to the way her body relaxes and breathing steadies due the gentle caresses surrounding her.

Regina’s breathing deepens, her head falling sideways and closer to Emma’s. “Goodnight,” she whispers, chest rising and falling slowly.

“Goodnight,” she says, body relaxing for each breath she matches with Regina.

 

* * *

 

Emma smiles down at her phone after registering. They’d had to register in different areas, but the encouraging message leaves her with aching cheeks. Regina’s on in the third round, whereas Emma isn’t competing until later in the afternoon.

With her eyes down and fingers pressing against the screen she jumps when someone starts tapping her shoulder. “Earth to Emma!” Her eyes slowly look up then roll. Ruby pulls the phone from her possession and hums. “ _Stop stressing! You’re amazing Emma. Believe in yourself_ and there’s even a kiss.”

So, she wants to deny it, but her damn cheeks do not get the memo. “She took me to dinner last night. Then we talked for a bit afterwards.” And she was still on a confusing high where she went back and forwards between friends or more, friends or more, because on one hand she was being friendly, and it wasn’t as if they’d done anything to warrant more, but those nothings were big indicators of more.

“Sounds like someone’s going to get screwed after all.” Ruby hands the phone back with a smirk.

“Ruby!”

“What? You’re in a hotel. What other place is as perfect?”

Emma groans, because she couldn’t argue with that logic, but, “I don’t know if she thinks of me as more than a friend, or even wants that, or…why is this so hard? How do you find women?”

“With great difficulty.” Ruby chuckles and elbows Emma in the side. “Why do you think most of the time I’m asking for your advice on men?”

“Clearly for my lesbian expertise,” she mutters, “but you have dated women. How do you know when they _like_ like you or just like you?”

“Ask.”

“Oh yeah, and risk losing a friend in the process.”

Ruby grabs Emma’s shoulders and makes eye contact. “Unless one of you makes a move then you’re going to stay in this cycle indefinitely. It will drive you mad.”

It’s already driving her mad. “This is all new, you know?” Those hands squeeze a little followed by a soft smile. “I don’t want to do anything that might ruin things.”

“Go with your gut,” she says, letting Emma go. “Other than that there’s no special way to know if a woman likes you as more or not.”

“Well-” her arms fling into the air dramatically, “there should be.”

“Do you have any suggestions because I’m all ears?”

On a pout, Emma shrugs, “I dunno.”

“Then we’re back to square one.” Ruby chuckles at the pout that somehow intensifies. “But I’m happy for you. Even if you’re too chicken shit to make a move.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You got it kiddo. I have to get going though, first rehearsal group starts soon. I’ll try to catch you when you’re on, but it seems like you’ll have someone cheering you on,” she says, giving Emma’s arm another squeeze.

“Yeah. I will.” But apparently even _that_ had fit in both the ‘just friends’ and ‘more than friends’ columns. This is the most confusing thing she’s ever been through. “See you later.”

“Good luck, Swan,” she says before heading down the corridor and leaving Emma alone with her phone and the woman on the other end. They don’t stop texting until Regina goes in for rehearsal, by which time Emma is already in the hall.

There’s a place sectioned off for contestants to watch, but every other seat in the room is filled. They sell tickets for this event, and it gives Emma a fresh wave of nerves. The chairs at ground level are mainly for contestants to give them easy access of getting in and out of the hall, but then they raise and are situated on platforms overlooking the stage that’s raised towards the back of the room.

Judges are in their own booth, and there’s a commentator who moves around. It’s huge, and even bigger than last year. At least Emma thinks it is, or it could be the nerves talking. She’d just witnessed the first group of six, and the battle that had followed. The groups are randomised, of six people, and after they all run their six minute set, two go through, two leave and the final two battle it out. It makes her blow out the longest breath, leg constantly tapping until Regina walks on the stage.

She might feel like a big ball of nervous energy, but with Regina on stage she can’t keep her eyes away. It’s ridiculous, really, not that she takes her attention away for a moment. By the time she’s starting her set Emma’s forehead is sweaty. The breath she holds is as much for herself as it is for Regina.

 _I’ve been a liar been a thief_ is the first set of lyrics that she begins with, at a slower tempo than Emma’s used to hearing Ed Sheeran’s voice. _Been a lover, been a cheat. My sins need holy water feeling it washing over me._ Another track underlays the song, something quicker as the chorus finishes, _oh little_ _one. I don’t wanna admit to something, if all it’s going to cause is pain. Truth in my lies, now they’re falling like the rain, so let the river run._ The grim lyrics are accentuated by Regina’s resolute face and all too fast Emma is being transported to a space where she can _touch_ Regina’s sorrow. She’s good.

The chorus repeats faster with the original mix between it, before it pauses followed by Eminem’s voice booming out _‘cause she loves_ _danger, psychopath_ and Emma smiles when there’s a murmur of approval through the crowd. Her set picks up, slows down, then Regina intertwines ‘Into You’ by Ariana Grande.

Emma nods, not having anticipated that would mix in well, but then her stomach flutters at _a little less conversation and a little more touch my body_ as if Regina’s looking directly at her. She’s not, obviously, her relaxed and slightly smiling face concentrates on the mix table and crowd at large. She moves fluidly but dances a lot less than Emma. It doesn’t make her any less captivating, for Emma isn’t the only one unable to pull her eyes away.

There’s no surprise when Regina gets through to semi-finals first in her group.

 

* * *

 

“Looks like Emma and Naomi will be battling it out for a spot at semi-finals,” a commentator says, spot light on him until it moves to the stage and the two women shuffling and blowing out breaths. Emma smiles tightly and offers her hand, receiving a quick shake and nod in return. “But first, let’s bring on the next six contestants.”

Emma runs off the stage with her chest tight. The crowd is cheering for the next group who are walking on, so she slips through the aisle unnoticed. Outside of the arena the world slowly fades back in, crashing into her chest.

“Emma,” someone says, gripping her arm. “Hey, look at me.” When she blinks Regina comes into focus. “Breathe, Emma.”

If only there was a way to remind her brain that. The tightness is her chest doesn’t loosen. It’s as if the oxygen itself is suffocating her. It had happened again, and she was stupid to ever believe she could make it. Winning was one of those dreams that will remain out of reach. “Henry needs new clothes,” she says, gulping. “He hardly fits into the ones he has now.”

“Okay,” Regina says, drawing out the word.

Warmth spreads around Emma’s hand as it is squeezed. The kindness makes her want to cry, but she manages to squeeze back hard enough so she doesn’t let go. “It should’ve gone to him.”

“Emma. You’re not making any sense.” After a quick glance around the hall Regina tugs her to a secluded spot. Their hands remain joined and Emma glances down towards where a thumb brushes circles over the inside of her wrist. She grounds herself with it, trying to settle her thoughts.

“All the money I saved. For what? For my kid to have less because of some stupid dream of winning.” Her face scrunches up. The tell-tale sign that she’s about to bawl.

Regina wraps both arms around her shoulders, “come here,” she whispers, and then they squeeze tightly. Closing her eyes Emma moulds her body into the soft one wrapped around her, snaking her arms around Regina’s waist and finding the perfect spot to press her cheek down. “It’s not stupid. You’re talented. But you need to calm down.”

“Am not,” she mutters, aware that she sounds like Henry when he’s throwing a tantrum. “I might as well go home.” Or stay exactly where she is, because damn, is this what comfort feels like? The next thing she knows she’s nuzzling Regina’s neck and tightening her hold.

“Hey,” she whispers, rubbing her hands up and down Emma’s back.

It had small sighs escaping from Emma’s chest. Mary Margaret and Ruby give nice hugs, but they never made her want to snuggle up and never let go. Not like this. Then it’s taken away when Regina untangles them, crosses her arms and raises both brows. Turns out Mary Margaret had nothing on Regina when it comes to scolding.

“Listen to me,” Regina says, and it’s enough for Emma to lift her eyes. “You are talented, but you’re transitioning too quickly. Some of the songs weren’t lining up and mixing correctly. You only just made the time limit.”

Emma shakes her head, “but I timed it perfectly,” she defends, “I practiced over and over. I know how long it was.”

“When you weren’t under pressure. You were moving too quickly, but the judges obviously saw something in you to give you another chance.” Emma shrugs, a slight rise in her stomach. One she wants to ignore so she isn’t disappointed again. “Are you going to stop moping or fight for your place?”

“I’m not moping. Just being realistic.”

“Be realistic elsewhere.” Emma rolls her eyes. “If you go in with that attitude you’ve already lost.”

Deep down Emma knows she’s right, but she can’t help but to feel defeated. “I just feel like it was all for nothing, you know?”

“No, I don’t. You have a real chance to make it to semis. But you _need_ to pull yourself together.” Emma nods briefly, because she doesn’t want to mess up her chance, but not being good enough is the story of her life. It doesn’t take a lot to set of this tornado of emotions. “Right. So, go to the bathroom. Splash some water on your face. Get a drink of water and your phone. Find the most uplifting song you have on there and play it on repeat until it’s time to get back in there.” When Emma’s mouth opens, her palm raises, “that was not a request, Miss Swan.”

Emma chuckles lightly then does as she’s told. That stern look was not to be messed with. She hadn’t known exactly what to expect, but Regina staying by her side for the entire time was not it. They even share her ear buds and sit huddled on the floor outside of the arena.

When they announce the battle, Regina tugs the headphones out, twisting her head. “I believe in you,” she says, brushes some hair from Emma’s face. She wants to nod, to respond in any other way than to sit with her back pressed to the wall and eyes that don’t leave Regina’s. She wants a lot of things in that moment, namely for the knuckles that brush down her cheek to do it again. “Now get in there and _fight.”_

Emma hardly registers anything other than being on the stage opposite the other contestant. One person chooses a song then the other chooses one that mixes well, or they throw out lyrics or anything that works. When not under pressure, it’s fun, but when there’s an entire room of people and a row of judges determining choices made in the moment, it makes it less so.

Emma mixes in ‘I wanna feel’ by Second City when it fits in; _I wanna feel your heart and soul inside of me, inside of me_ and offers up a little smirk when the tempo throws the other woman off. It gives Emma a boost of confidence, so when it switches again to something faster, she thinks back to Regina and her set, adding in Alicia Key’s chorus from Like Home by Eminem.

She starts of quickly _this is where we all began, all began_ then slows the words down by each sentence until the voice is deeper, slower, when it blares _there’s no place like home._

The music fades out, and Emma bounces with excitement and nerves when the commentator comes back on. The crowd cheers, and Emma licks her lips looking around. “Looks like we have another contestant on their way to California!” he says, lifting Emma’s arm as if she’s a boxer. Her heart races, and when her eyes settle on the back of the room, Regina is on her feet clapping.

Emma dives from the stage and straight towards Regina, not stopping until their bodies collide and she can wrap herself up in her. The hug is returned tightly, and Emma squeezes her eyes with her chin propped on Regina’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“You did all the work,” she says, lightly rubbing her back. “Would you like to stay and watch or are you ready for some celebrating?”

“Celebrating,” Emma says instantly, ready for what the rest of the night might have in store for them.

  

* * *

 

With the phone pressed to her ear and the steady stream of water coming from the bathroom, Emma doesn’t think twice about letting out a long squeal. She runs on the spot and continues to squeal, “I’m going to semi-finals,” and bounces and laughs at Ruby screaming down the phone. “Ruby! We’re going to be in California. I’ve never even been to the west coast. Rubbyyyy!”

Emma giggles and falls backwards against the hotel bed. She lies in starfish form already dressed for the evening. “I already called Mary Margaret,” she says, face in a beaming smile and cheeks reddened from all the excited screaming and moving around. “And I get to squish my kid tomorrow.”

Ruby lets out a long scream of incoherent words, before her voice drops with a, “and how’s Regina?”

“In the shower,” she mutters, “we’re going down to the bar.” Emma quickly scans the room and when the shower is still running whispers, “I’m dying, Ruby. We cuddled last night.”

“Aww that’s sweet. Maybe ramp it up a bit tonight though. Whilst you still have the chance.”

“Ruby,” she hisses, the shower slowing then coming to a stop. “Have you been to L.A.?” she asks, steering the conversation to safe topics. Regina emerges from the bathroom in nothing but one of those towels.

Her breath hitches. There’s water droplets on her exposed shoulder and her head is tipped to one side as she rubs a towel against her hair. Emma swallows and sits up on the bed. “Do you erm, need me to give you some privacy?”

“Privacy?” Ruby asks down the phone.

“Please.” Regina smiles softly, face natural and damp hair curling on her shoulders.

“Ooooh,” Ruby hums.

Emma ignores her and smiles back. “You should keep your hair natural,” she says, the curls are adorable _and_ sexy. “The curls suit you.”

Regina shakes her head, “I don’t care for them,” then continues to ruffle the towel against her darkened hair. She doesn’t make eye contact, and Emma takes a moment to wonder why she wouldn’t like her natural hair.

“Well it’s up to you-” she shrugs, thumb hooking into the black denim shorts, “but I think your natural hair is beautiful.”

“Ooooh, smooth,” Ruby whispers, and Emma rolls her eyes.

Regina’s eyes startle when she looks up, then soften considerably when she whispers, “thank you,” and lets the towel dangle in her hand. “I might just do that.”

Emma nods, hoping she does. “I’ll head out to the balcony.” Emma swings the door open as Ruby chuckles mischievously. “I don’t want to hear it,” she says once the door is closed. “It was a simple compliment.”

“You’re an idiot, Swan.”

“An idiot who has idiot feelings,” she mutters, resting her forearms against the railings. She sighs, “what am I going to do, Rubes?”

 

* * *

 

After a few drinks at the bar, Regina slides off the stool and raises her palm. “Care to dance,” she asks, with this sultry look that makes Emma gulp when she reaches for her hand. Regina smiles when she wraps her fingers around the hand against her own, raising it into the air as Emma slips from the stool. She directs her to the crowd of people at the back of the room dancing to Sigala’s ‘I came here for love’ that increases in volume for every step they take.

Regina’s arm is stretched behind her to keep their hands clasped as she guides them to the dance floor, her hips already swaying when her heeled feet take the few steps to the raised area of the room. The red dress hugs to her backside and creases from side to side until she’s at the top. Emma licks her lips as she takes the few steps. Their hands part when Regina turns around, arms raised in a cross and takes a few paces backwards with those swaying hips.

How is she supposed to survive Regina looking like _that?_ Her dark hair is curled and surrounds her face, all because she’d suggested it. The make-up is simple and faded except for the deep red lipstick. Emma tugs at the shorts, rolling her eyes when Regina crooks a finger at her direction. There’s bodies everywhere, but she ignores them and focuses on the woman in front of her. On a laugh she begins to bob to the music, twisting her hips and swaying her arms as she moves closer. Whether she looks good or not is irrelevant.

Regina’s smile grows, and _that_ is very relevant. They dance close to each other until their breaths are coming in quick pants and Emma can feel a gleam of sweat on her lower back. Not that any of it matters when a pair of hands find her hips. Emma’s hips sway against those palms and she wraps her arms around Regina’s neck, hands clasped behind it.

Ed Sheeran’s ‘Shape of You’ vibrates through the speakers as they dance closer and closer. _Girl you know I want your love, your love was handmade for somebody like me._ Their bodies move in time with the song until bold arms slip around her waist. Their bodies press together deliciously, and on a sigh Emma lets go, arms wrapping around Regina’s neck and she places her cheek down.

 _I’m in love with the shape of you. Push and pull like a magnet do. Although my heart is falling too, I’m in love with your body._ Emma’s eyes close. Regina’s body sways in time with her own and she could dance with her like this all night. Their bare legs press together, and their bodies sway in a fluid movement. It’s utter perfection, until the song ends and Regina pulls away. When Emma pops her head up, arms slipping from Regina, she playfully flicks Emma’s curled hair before turning so her back is to Emma.

Craig David’s ‘I know you’ plays at a faster tempo than its original version and her arms shoot into the air and she smiles wildly. She loves this song but forgets all about it when her front is suddenly brushing against Regina’s back. _We’re all stumbling through the night. It doesn’t matter. We’re all together._ Regina reached behind her to wrap her arm around Emma’s neck and flings her head back, flashing her a smirk. _And it’s paradise in our minds. Hold it together. Arms around each other. I know yoouuu._ Emma lets herself be led, hands on Regina’s waist and thighs that are beginning to ache.

Regina spins again as the song shifts to ‘One Kiss’ and their cheeks are flushed and foreheads clammy, but the thought of a drink is only a blip in Emma’s mind when a tan arm once again snakes around her waist. _One kiss is all it takes, falling in love with me, possibilities._

Regina’s forearm presses to her lower back, tugging them closer. Their hips grind to the beat of the song, their chest brushing every so often. Regina’s dark hair is slightly damp, and it whips across her face when she twists it and lifts her spare arm into the air, leaving it hanging loose over-arching her head. Emma moves with her, heart rate accelerating and her own curled hair losing its form. That arm slips free from her waist so Regina can lift both arms into the air. Her hips twist and with the opening Emma daringly places her hands on Regina’s hips, licks her lips then slips then around her waist.

They keep dancing, bodies closer together. Regina smirks, flicking some hair from her face before she snakes one arm around Emma’s neck. Hair tugs from her skull from the arm that’s trapped, but with Regina’s body moving against her she easily blocks it out. Along with everything else around them. She licks her lips, hands sliding up Regina’s back and over the soft material of her dress.

Her eyes look up with a glaze over them, and when her fingertips dig into her back Regina looks at her knowingly. Their swaying bodies slow for every second their gaze remains connected. Regina’s eyes flicker down and away, and there’s uncertainty when she lifts them, but then her other arm circles Emma’s shoulder. Brashly, and with the grace of a bull, Emma presses her mouth to Regina’s. She fumbles, eyes tightly squeezed, but keeps her puckered lips still.

Regina’s hands move to cup her cheeks, and parts their lips. Her hazel eyes gleam, but her mouth parts slightly as if to say something, but it gets trapped and she shakes her head before her eyes close and she finally kisses Emma back.

The force of it pushes Emma’s head back half an inch, but Regina’s fingers curl against the back of her neck to keep her in place. Inch by inch the feel of Regina’s moist lips relaxes her body, starting from her mouth that parts a miniscule gap before closing again. Emma moans, gripping onto Regina’s dress and allows Regina to push her lips open before Regina’s close over them. It causes heat to rise in her gut, and a dull ache occurs when a tongue runs the length of her lower lip.

She clenches her thighs, and tightens her hold on Regina, then soft lips close and press firmly into her own. A hand snakes into her hair, fingers tightening around the blonde curls. When her mouth next opens a tongue slips inside. Emma chuckles, thighs quaking and instinctively curls her tongue around Regina’s. They both moan before the one exploring slips from her mouth and their kiss slows.  

Emma tries to open her mouth and increase the pace, but a hand falls to her chest and pushes lightly. Their lips part with a pop, and a goofy grin spreads as her chest heaves. Her gaze quickly runs over the most stunning woman on the planet who’d just pressed her mouth against Emma’s. _Regina had freaking kissed her!_

When she smiles at Regina with a little flush on her cheeks, Regina’s eyes lower, and her arms fall to her sides. She shakes her head and lifts her wet eyes. _Is Regina regretting this already?_ “I’m not-” she starts, mouth slightly parted, brown eyes everywhere never meeting green ones. Finally, they settle over Emma’s shoulder and her face shifts and eyes widen. “Shit,” she mutters, quickly glancing at Emma and offering some sort of apology through her eyes then pushes through the dancing bodies.

Emma spins around, tracking her movements. “Regina?” she calls, trying to follow by dodging through the crowd of people and avoiding elbows. Picking up her pace she chases those clipping heels until she’s outside of the bar and back in the corridor. She stops in place when she sees Regina is no longer alone. Emma vaguely remembers the woman she’s talking to, from the poker game. She had sat next to Regina in the circular table. But she had ignored her the whole time, hadn’t left much of an impression on Emma when all she could focus on was Regina, no wonder she had lost so badly.

Mal is currently glaring at her over Regina’s shoulder.

“Have you been sleeping with her this entire time?” she accuses, and it jolts Emma back into the present. The music is quieter here, and a few stranglers hang around, but otherwise no one else heard the harsh accusation.

Or the even harsher tone when Regina hisses, “of course not.” Like she had never even considered it.

It stings, even if it’s the truth, and Emma slows her steps. “What’s going on?” she asks, licking her lips and feeling the faint taste of lipstick ( _Regina’s lipstick_ her brain supplies). Regina doesn’t meet her eyes, instead crosses her arms and stares at the floor; forcing her to look at Mal for answers.

The woman had a good few inches on them in those heels, and she rocks back causing the long black jump suit to crinkle around her body. Her straight blonde hair whips behind her shoulder when she laughs with disbelief. “You don’t know, do you?” and she shakes her head then glares at Regina.

Regina’s eyes squish when she looks to Emma, and it almost knocks her over. It’s a mirror image of every foster parent who had ever sent her packing. The silence stretches on with only Regina giving her this look, and Emma’s cheeks burn from humiliation when the puzzle pieces fall into place. She takes a step back, a lump in her throat when she looks between them. “You were leading me on this entire time?”

Regina’s eyes widen, and her head is shaking. “It wasn’t like that,” she says, going to grab her wrist. Emma yanks it out of reach. “Emma, please just…”

“You’re unbelievable,” Mal scoffs.

Emma goes cold, body rigid and eyes stinging, but she won’t give them the satisfaction of her tears. “I thought,” she whispers, lightly touching her fingers to her lips. Their eyes meet, and the cold freezes and burns in her chest. “You’re an ass,” she chokes, and her eyes well anyway.

“Emma.” Her voice is spoken in a high disapproving voice, but it only angers her further.

Emma stamps against the floor, “no, fuck you!” she shouts, hard eyes accusatory, and her heart remembers to beat, accelerating rapidly.

“Excuse me?” Regina’s arms cross and she glares. “It’s not _my_ fault you misread the situation.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend! You should have told me, before I…” she can’t bring herself to say anything more.

“I do love how you’re more concerned with…her,” Mal spits, “than your actual girlfriend.” It’s spoken so conversationally that it grates on Emma’s nerves. Regina twists her head between them. Emma lowers her eyes. “After everything I’ve done for you. This is how you repay me,” and that time Emma hears the tremble in her voice.  

“Mal,” Regina whispers, taking a step closer to her. “I…” but then her head turns to Emma. Her eyes are blurry by the time she looks at Regina. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, the words hardly audible. Emma’s chin wobbles when she nods and turns around. “Emma,” she calls, a plea in her voice, but it only makes her legs go faster before they buckle.

Regina watches her go, not able to go after her, not with her _girlfriend_ rightfully demanding her attention. “What are you even doing here?” she asks, sounding very tired.

Mal shakes her head, arms lifting then falling to her sides in defeat. “I came to surprise you.”

“I didn’t mean-”

Mal narrows her eyes, lips twisting in an evil smirk. “Save it.” Regina bows her head, arms wrapping around her middle when Mal spits out, “I would say go fuck her, but I doubt she’ll want you either,” then flicks her hair and walks away leaving a distraught Regina behind.

 

* * *

 

When the hotel room door pushes open Emma swipes furiously at her cheeks and shoves the clothes into her bag until her arms strain with the effort. Regina walks slowly into the room, her presence small then perches on the edge of the bed. She was surprised to find Emma there, she thought she would have more time to come up with a convincing apology. “You don’t have to-”

“It’s fine.” She’d called Ruby immediately and her friend had proven once again why she’s an amazing person.

“Emma I- … I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t.” She storms past Regina into the bathroom, grabs her toiletries then throws them into her bag. She zips it up quickly and throws it over her shoulder, regretting not having packed faster, she didn’t think Regina would come back to the room so fast. “You’re an ass, you know that?”

Regina’s head snaps up, eyes hard. “It’s not like I told you I was single. You presumed-”

“You were dancing all over me.”

“I was just dancing.” She stands up, hand flat against her forehead. “Maybe I got a little too close, but-”

“And you cuddled me,” she says, voice cracking, “no one…” had ever cuddled her before, but she shakes her head instead of saying that out loud.

Regina sighs, arms flopping by her sides. “Where are you even going?”

“Are you still with her?” Emma asks, not in the mood to tell her anything. All Regina does is lift her shoulders then lets them fall. “Right.” She flings the bag over her shoulder then moves to the door, but a hand on her wrist pulls her back. Regina’s face is soft when she tugs on her arm, but she doesn’t give in. When she tugs her arm free Regina just sits on the bed and bows her head.

For a moment Emma watches her, stomach lurching when she whispers, “I’m so sorry,” but Regina had brought this on herself.

“Save it.”

Regina flinches, arms wrapping around herself and nods, not attempting anything further when Emma leaves the room.

Emma doesn’t go to Ruby’s room right away, instead she finds herself in a bathroom stall taking deep breaths in, unable to stop the sting in her eyes. After splashing water on her face to hide the evidence she walks along the hotel corridors and down each flight of stairs in turn. Ruby’s on the fourth floor, but she’s still not there in another thirty minutes due to her detours. She wants her own room; a place she can flop on the bed and feel the hurt that spreads through her body.

It tingles beneath her arms all the way to her fingertips, aching in her gut. She’s never wanted by anyone, and the thought has her eyes well. She clenches her fists and drops her head when a group of people walk by her. It’s easier to forget about the hole in her chest and the deep ache she feels whenever she thinks too hard about her life. Or those times she comes across a group of friends and wonders what it would be like to be part of it, or when she’s with Henry at the grocery store and there’s families doing their groceries together. She tries to ignore them and convinces herself that having one parent is enough for her child. That _she’s_ enough.

Even if most of the time she feels like she isn’t.

“Emma,” Ruby calls, jogging up beside her. “Got lost?” Emma shrugs, avoiding eye contact and lets Ruby take her bag from her sore shoulder. “Come on-” she wraps an arm around Emma’s waist and drags her back to the elevator, “I have snacks and vodka. Along with me I think you’re set for the evening.”

She smiles softly, the tears threatening to overflow at the kindness. “Thanks,” she mutters, voice cracking on that one syllable. At least one person has her back. She leans into her side when they’re waiting for the silver doors to slide open, willing herself not to cry. Ruby pretends not to notice, and babbles away about the hot guy who didn’t make it through, which, according to her friend, is completely unfair when the next competition hotel has a pool.

“You might not have even seen him,” Emma mutters.

“That’s not the point. He’s _hot_ Em, like, _really_ _hot,”_ she says, emphasising the words as if it would somehow make Emma agree. “Don’t give me that look.” She pulls the key card out and places it against the door. Emma shrugs and walks inside, dumps her bag on the floor then drops to the bed. Her phone vibrates. Regina’s name flashing almost makes her answer it, but she declines. The last thing she needs is some half-hearted apology.

Ruby hands her a red cup, “drink,” she says, and Emma doesn’t ask what’s in it when she throws it down her throat. It’s gone in under a minute, but she shakes her head when Ruby goes to make her another.

“I have to travel all day tomorrow,” she says. A few drinks were one thing but blacking out into oblivion when she’s spending hours on multiple trains the following day is not a smart move. No matter how much she wants to. “I’ll have some of those, though.”

Ruby chucks the bag of chips at Emma’s head. “Have at it,” then fluffs up a pillow and props herself up on the bed. “Wanna talk or would you prefer me to tell you how she’s not even that pretty?”

Emma twists on the bed with a smirk. “We both know that’s not true,” she says, throwing a handful of chips into her mouth.

Ruby shrugs, “truth. Sorry Em, she’s hot as fuck.”

“Yeah,” she whispers. S _he’s more than just hot_ her brain supplies, _I thought we had a connection_. Her phone vibrates again, but she can’t deal with Regina right now. She doesn’t want to hear why she’s choosing her girlfriend over her, she doesn’t want to know why she’s not good enough this time. So She falls back onto the bed with a deep sigh. Another handful of chips finds its way into her mouth. She chomps loudly. “I’m so stupid,” she mumbles, head on the pillow and body spread out over the bed. “I should have known something shitty would happen.”

Ruby sits with her back pressed against the wall, pillow as a buffer. She grabs the bag of chips and pours a pile into her palm before throwing them back. “It’s not your fault. She should have told you or broke things off.” Emma sighs and places both hands over her stomach. The chips were too far out of reach. Or more accurately she would have to move more than a few inches to reach them. “Anyway-” she chucks a chip at Emma’s head, “you’re going to California, girl!”

Emma shrugs, _was that only today?_ “If I couldn’t afford Boston I’m not affording California.” The excitement had easily faded, the reality taking its place. Groaning she grabs a pillow and presses it to her face. Whether it was a good foster family moving out of the area and giving her back, or the job she’d been working steadily at for six months laying her off because she was the last in, or the woman she had been falling for not being single, she should be used to this by now.

“I’ve already started your application,” Ruby says casually, throwing another chip into her mouth. It takes Emma a good minute for her sluggish mind to catch up.

Her head twists so she can look up and make her point firmer through the narrowing of her eyes. “We talked about this. I’m not-”

“Accepting the help they offer?”

“Ruby,” she whines, “it will feel like a hand-out. I’m not a charity case.”

“There are other contestants who have already applied. And it’s not a hand-out, you buffoon. Think of it as levelling the playing field. The winner gets to work with the best of the best to produce an album. They want the best regardless of background.”

Emma chews on her lip at the thought. What was she supposed to do? Say no? “I want that,” she mumbles, knowing the opportunity they present is a game changer. She wants that as much as she wants the cash prize. “Fine.”

“You’re such a bore. Forget about her for a minute and celebrate your achievement.”

Emma groans again and pushes her arms above her head to put the pillow back in place. Ruby’s hotel room is much smaller than Regina’s, but there’s still a double bed.

Ruby throws her legs over the bed then tosses her a wink. “Now get that sexy backside up. You’re going to semi-finals!”

Emma smiles shyly and pushes herself up. “Yeah,” she says, lowered eyes rising slowly. “I am,” and it was enough for her to push from the bed and hit her uplifting playlist. Her heart remains lowered, but her spirit lifts a little when Ruby grabs her hands and yanks her to the middle of the room. “I’m going to California,” she says, the words running around her mind.

The music lowers when a text comes through. Emma wants to ignore it, she really does, but she grabs her phone anyway. **Can we talk? x**

She stares at it, and Ruby comes up behind her. “She must have really enjoyed that kiss,” she says, but all Emma can do is shrug. “She’s texting you and not her girlfriend?”

“She could be texting both of us for all I know,” she mutters, when it buzzes again. **Please. I’m so sorry. Let me explain x**

“She’s even adding kisses.”

Emma shrugs again, when it buzzes and cuts off the music for a third time. It’s a sad face emoji with a single tear and a broken heart. “Jeesh,” Ruby says, “why don’t you go and talk to her?” But Emma can hardly breathe. She had the right to feel disheartened. Regina had been the damn cause. She switches her phone to night time mode, locks it then throws it on the bed.

“We’ll use your phone,” she says, ignoring Ruby and going back over to the vodka. “And on second thought-” she mixes another drink no longer caring if she’ll suffer tomorrow, “we’re celebrating!”

“I really think you should at least text her.” Emma raises her brows and ignores Ruby’s suggestion by grabbing the drink and swigging half of it down.

 

* * *

 

When Emma hadn’t replied a good half hour later she calls Mal. She probably should have called her first -the least she deserves is an apology- but the only thing she could think of were the tear tracks on Emma’s cheeks. “Mal,” she says when the call is answered right away, voice straining and sounding desperate.

“Ready to admit you fucked her?” she accuses, “or are you going to deny you were sharing a room.”

Regina cringes, eyes flickering around the empty room. “I wouldn’t do that to you,” she says quietly, to either of them. Emma deserves better than that. They both do. She twists her head, brushing her palm over the perfectly made covers, then grabs for the pillow on the left side of the bed. She holds it to her chest. “There was a problem when she checked in, so I offered to help. We slept in the same bed, but that was it.”

Her fingers tighten around the pillowcase; somehow having the woman lying on her chest all night had felt more intimate than sex, but Mal doesn’t need to hear that so she keeps the thought to herself. It had felt so good, so right, and she knows she should have stopped it, but she had been helpless against her own wants.

Mal hums down the line. “That’s why you were grinding on her in front of everyone?”

Regina gulps, “I shouldn’t have done that,” then sighs deeply. She shouldn’t have encouraged her, she knows, but she’d wanted to, and that’s the moment her brain balks and denies her access to any further thoughts. “I shouldn’t have kissed her back. I got caught up, we were celebrating making it to the next round, we were full of euphoria and…I don’t know, Mal.” She knows she’s full of it, the euphoria had had nothing to do with it, nor did the alcohol, Regina had been fantasizing about kissing Emma since before the trip, she can’t pin point exactly when she had fallen for the younger woman, but she knew she had. She hadn’t considered the consequences and now they were back with a vengeance in the form of a rightfully hurt girlfriend demanding blood.

Her teeth grit, because there’s a part that’s angry at the woman on the other end. She wants her freedom. She wants to be able to enjoy her heart thumping at the memory of Emma’s hands, and body, and lips, instead of it causing her to ache. “I messed up,” she whispers instead, looking around the empty room, because it’s unfair of her to be mad at a woman whose only crime is to love her.

“Yes. You did.”

The line goes dead. Regina pulls the pillow behind her head then throws it across the room. Her phone goes next, then her head falls into her hands. After a few deep breaths she stands and crouches down to grab the items. A charger lies beneath the table. Emma’s charger. It’s a stupid reason, and it’s beyond desperate, but she messages Emma anyway, hoping that at least she’ll get to see her again.

That’s all she gets. Half an hour later Regina shows up in Emma’s room. “I don’t want to talk to you right now,” she says as soon as she opens the door, so wordlessly Regina presses the charger into Emma’s hand. Their fingers brush and then their eyes meet. Emma’s pupils are a little dilated, and she sways, and the way she yanks her hand away and mutters, “thanks,” before shutting the door in her face pushes Regina to find the same solace.

Mal is already there, leant over the bar with a cocktail between her palms. When she swivels on her chair and catches sight of Regina with her hands clasped in front of her middle, she sighs then flags the bartender over. “An apple martini,” she says, and Regina breathes out then slides onto the stool next to her. “Was it just one kiss?”

“Yes.” Regina shuffles on the seat then takes the offered martini. “It wasn’t my intention to lead her on,” she says, but her voice wobbles. Mal doesn’t notice, or ignores it, because she slowly places her hand over Regina’s.

“Okay.” She squeezes it a little too tight, but Regina offers her a small smile. “I’m sorry for what I said,” she says, and Regina hums lightly, because it wasn’t okay, but she isn’t about to tell her she shouldn’t be upset, either. Mal leans over on her stool to press a kiss to Regina’s head, with a whispered, “I love you,” that has Regina’s heart throbbing painfully.

All she can muster up in reply is an, “I know,” that’s not nearly good enough, and there’s a flicker of pain in Mal’s eyes, but she kisses her again anyways and then wraps an arm around her shoulders, and Regina hates herself a little bit more when she lowers her head on her shoulders and pretends she’s in a different blonde’s arms.


	5. Chapter 5

_Semi-finals_

The rays shine down on her face, lower legs sloshing in the cool water and hands pressed into the ground behind her hips. Emma sighs at the constant chatter, and murmurs along to the song playing through the speakers. Even the screams of children cause her body to relax further in the baking heat. “I have no idea how to thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Ruby says, “all I did was use my influential power and work benefits.”

Emma chuckles and reluctantly opens her eyes. “Thank you,” she says for the twenty-third time. Bent over so her hands and feet are immersed in the pool Ruby nods before pushing her body off and slipping in graciously.

“Coming in, Swan?”

“Wuby!” Henry wails, kicking his feet furiously. “I got paw-patrol,” he says, the paw-patrol rubber bands brushing up against his chubby cheeks as he kicks closer to them. “Mommy look!”

Considering the fights they sometimes had over bath time and the screams if a drop of water touches his face Emma wants to have a stern talking to with her three-year-old. _If_ he didn’t look so cute with his wet hair flattened on his head and the little red swimming trunks he has on. “You better get swimming, kid!” She slides in and he jerks back, lets out a squeal then swims in the other direction.

Ruby treads water by her side and raises a brow. “Cold, Swan,” she teases, flicking water at her.

“Mary-Marguht! Mary-Marguht!” His little arms and legs move at lightning speed and Emma flicks water back at her friend before diving under the water. She swims unnoticed by her son and emerges beside her roommate.

Henry’s eyes go wide at the splash. He screams then lets out a belly laugh that sees water going into his mouth before he spits it out. He laughs harder as Emma scoops him onto her hip and presses her lips to his cheek, blowing a raspberry. “Gotcha.”

He hiccups, “no fair,” then flops his arm into the water so it goes all over Emma’s face. Her stern looks last less than two seconds. They’re in freakin California. She gives Henry a squeeze before lightly throwing him back into the water. He giggles like a fiend when it goes all over his face.

Emma leans towards Mary Margaret. “Remind me of this when the neighbours think I’m murdering my child over a bit of shampoo.”

Mary Margaret chuckles. “I thought he would be throwing a fit.”

“I win! I win!” he says, swimming ahead of Ruby and panting by the women. His legs dangle towards the ground, chin floating in the water and his little cheeks are flushed pink.

Ruby comes up beside them, standing up fully in the shallow end to flip her darkened hair back. “You were too quick for me, bud,” she says, flopping her arms around Emma’s neck from behind. “And I guess you never imagined you’d be seeing a certain someone in a bikini,” she whispers pointing behind Emma.

Emma frowns and wiggles a little as she turns. “Ruby, we’re just-” her mouth hangs open at the goddess that walks down beside the pool and sun loungers. Emma sucks in a breath, eyes shamefully running over the exposed legs, stomach and stopping at the cleavage on display.

“Fuck,” she mutters under her breath, ducking under the water before she’s caught ogling. When she breaks through the water Henry is already swimming away muttering _pwetty lady_ because of course her three-year-old who can never remember where he last left his stuffed elephant remembers meeting her when he’d been sleep deprived. “Henry!”

Emma goes to catch up, but the shouting has Regina whip her head around. A group of older children swim down the pool unnoticed by Emma who freezes when their eyes meet. Regina startles. “Emma!” but she shakes her head, swallowing hard. Regina had called her once, a call she had declined, and then she had heard nothing for three weeks. Emma hadn’t wanted to talk to her, but not communicating at all had made her chest ache. She’d typed out a few angry messages, a few messages that had sounding too desperate before deleting every single one and throwing herself into practice to keep her mind from wondering.

Emma stays routed, unaware of the splashes and laughs that crawl closer. Henry giggles and wiggles in the water, and Regina bolts into the pool, immersed under water then pops her head out near Henry. He laughs harder, but Regina’s eyes are wide when her arms wrap around his body and tug him against her chest, quickly kicking her legs and using one arm to swim.

The screaming children who dunk each other and splash everyone in reach hit the spot Henry had just been swimming in, and Emma’s heart lurches when she glimpses at Regina with her arm on the edge of the pool and the other around Henry. She swims quickly to them, lump in her throat when she stands and smiles weakly. Henry bangs his fist into the water and laughs when Regina pulls a fake stern face. The sight of them makes Emma’s legs wobble.

“Mommy!” He bounces in Regina’s arms, unfazed, and she has to bend herself backwards to avoid his rubber band, but then he twists again, and it squelches across her cheek. Emma bites her cheek to stop herself from laughing.

“Hey,” she says, running her eyes over her son to check for bruises.

“Hi, Emma.” Regina smiles tenderly and juggles her son. Her _son_ who is happily bouncing in her arms.

Emma ducks her eyes and pushes some hair back from Henry’s forehead. “Remember what we said about the people traffic?” she asks, stomach fluttering at the hand that’s pressed to his lower back and the thumb that dips into the water then out of it.

Henry smiles sheepishly, “to look before swimming.”

“You got it.” Her palm lifts and he happily slaps it.

“Maybe we should tell that to the kids older than three,” Regina mutters, eyes skimming around the pool and promising murder. She grips Henry a little tighter.

“Erm…yeah, but they’re kids-” she rubs the back of her neck, “can’t blame a kid for getting excited in a pool. Best I can do is try to get Henry to watch out for them.”

Regina narrows her eyes at Emma. “Maybe I should speak to their incompetent parents.”

“Regina. It’s fine. Everyone’s fine,” except perhaps for herself now she’s come face to face with Regina. The same Regina who’s holding her son so close to her, like there’s no doubt that’s where he belongs. 

“He could have been hurt, Emma.”

Her palm flattens on top of the one on Henry’s back, her fingertips comforting her son whilst she touches Regina. “But he wasn’t. If I live through what-ifs I’d wrap him up in bubble wrap and never let him out of my sight.”

“That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” she mutters under her breath, then takes a calming one. Henry wiggles until Regina reluctantly places him back in the water.

“Bye mommy,” he says, bored of the conversation, and Emma gives him the go ahead to swim back over to Ruby and Mary Margaret. They both wear matching expressions that Emma wants to flip them off over.

“Erm, thank you,” Emma says, turning back to Regina. “I didn’t see those kids.”  

She smiles warmly, clasping her hands together beneath the water. It ripples around her exposed cleavage. It drags Emma’s eyes to the water droplets that run up her bare chest and over her shoulders against the black straps. Emma pulls her eyes away, hitching a breath when she takes in the make-up free face, natural and stunningly beautiful in the sunlight.

When she smiles back, Regina’s eyes are lowered and shamelessly staring at Emma’s red bikini top. Her stomach tenses, and she finds herself wondering what it would be like for Regina’s fingers to run along her toned stomach, and then lower still. “I should get back,” she says, and Regina’s head snaps up as if she hadn’t been staring at Emma’s semi-naked body.

“Emma.” A hand grabs her wrist, “can we talk?” The eyes staring at her are intense, but before she could even consider saying yes, she spots a certain blonde woman walking past the occupied sun loungers before her eyes squint at the pool.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Mal sits by them, feet dangling into the pool. “I see why you came down without me,” she says, and the fingers around her wrist slip away.

Dark eyes roll and there’s a less than discreet sigh when Regina turns to face Mal. “I didn’t know Emma was down here,” she says, picking at the skin at the side of her nails.

Henry pushes his rubber band into Emma’s side, but her squinted eyes remain on the rocking woman. She floats her arms onto the surface of the water and takes deep breaths, not looking at Emma or Mal. Henry shoves into her side until she gives him the required attention. “Mommy-” he bashes her again, “mommy!”

She ruffles his hair, saying, “I need to get back.”

“Emma,” Regina says, and there’s a plea in her tone when she comes back to herself. “Can we catch up later?” She flickers her gaze to Mal, but any attempts of being discreet are lost. Emma shrugs, and the desperation in Regina’s voice grows when she says, “I’m in room 304 or you can give me a quick text and we could maybe get a drink?” Emma remembers offering an apology-drink to the brunette weeks ago and wonders if she should extend the same courtesy of accepting.

Mal swallows thickly and playfully flicks some water at Regina. When she turns her head Mal gives her this awkward smile. “You seriously didn’t just invite her up to our room?” and there’s a hint of mischief beneath her tone, one that has Regina twisting her entire body, so it splashes over mother and son. Henry bobs in the water, giggling when it flies over his head.

“We’re sharing a room,” Regina says softly, and Emma rocks on her heels at the intensity of Mal’s gaze. If before she hadn’t thought about the other party who had gotten hurt, she does now. “What do you think is going to happen?”

 _Sharing a room._ Emma legs weaken, eyes lowering to the rippling water.

Mal’s smile is pained when she looks from the child blowing into the water to create bubbles, then to Emma and finally back to her girlfriend. “Not much now I know she has a kid.” Emma places a protective arm around him. “What was it you said? Something like you’d rather live in a sewer than raise a child.”

Regina’s eyes widen when her head whips around to Emma. “That’s not what it-”

Mal’s mouth hangs open and she pushes from the pool. She brushes a hand down her face whilst taking quick short breaths. “Sorry,” she mutters, eyes finding Regina’s. “I think I should go.”

Emma doesn’t know what to say, especially when Regina nods tightly and doesn’t look back at her. She rubs a hand over her chest, so Emma looks down at her child and says playfully, “first one back to Ruby is the winner,” at least to get Henry out of ear shot.

“Emma,” Mal says, and it’s so strange hearing her name from the woman’s mouth her head snaps up. “I didn’t mean to say that,” which doesn’t mean Regina had never said it. 

Emma nods tightly, takes one more look at Regina then swims after her kid, apology-drink forgotten. There’s a faint call of her name, but it’s half hearted, and Emma doesn’t know what to think of it. Her arms and legs move in slow motion, feeling heavier than they did ten minutes ago. If only she could breathe under water; she might be tempted to stay under there and never emerge again.

 

* * *

 

There’s something calming about knowing her two friends and son are in the audience. The scheduling turned out perfectly; late enough that she had time to get Henry ready and convince him to eat breakfast, but not too late that he would become restless and want to leave. Mary Margaret will be taking him back out to the pool after Emma has finished her set, knowing it would be torture for the poor child to have to sit still for all five hours.

Once in the booth she takes a calming breath and waits behind the mix table. The equipment had been set up, headphones rest over her head and she’d had a surprisingly good rehearsal. She had been putting all her energy into getting this set right after the last competition, and when she had been practicing, she certainly hadn’t been thinking about anything or _anyone_ else.

Regina had texted her that morning. **Good luck, Emma.** The start of the message had read. **Don’t doubt your talent. Breathe and take each transition as they come. I believe in you x**

Who’s to say whether the practising or the text helped her more?

Not that it matters in that moment. She presumes Regina is in the audience too. There are so many people, however, she wouldn’t be able to spot her even if she tried. The room’s blackened, the spot light on her, and she breathes as Regina instructed. It’s good advice whether they’re on good terms or not.

The commentator stands to the side of Emma with a smile. Her grey suit is fitted to perfection. She nods at the blonde woman whose fingers tremble slightly. Emma nods back, forcing a smile on her lips. “DJ Swan!” she bellows after the judges give her the all clear. The crowd cheers. “We’re ready for you.”

She blows out a breath and takes her place. Ten minutes of a set, at least two minutes of which had to be original. If all goes well, she’ll be paired up and the pairs will battle it out for a place at finals. She puts it out of her mind. Next comes a pep talk. She’s taking a risk but playing it safe this late into the game won’t help her stand out.

The original beat she’d been working on begins and will shift and alter throughout the ten minutes to fit the songs she’ll be weaving through. With only her roommate and three-year old’s opinion on the mix, it’s a gamble whether it will be any good. She hadn’t tested it out at work for fear of someone recording it and stealing. This is her trail run and her heart beats like a drum in her ears.

Within the beat she adds Demi Lovato’s ‘Solo’ into the mix, the word repeating and increasing in speed until; _since you’ve been gone, I’ve been dancing on my own. There’s boys up in my zone, but they can’t turn me on_ and she ups the tempo and starts to dance along to the music. It’s a sure way to get the crowd pumped. Her smile is real when the figures move. Quicker than its usual tempo, and with a beat intertwining beneath it she dives right into the chorus.

_I wanna f-woop woop woop but I’m broken hearted. Cr-Cr-Cry but I like to party. T-t-touch but I got nobody. Here on my own. I wanna f-woop woop woop but I’m broken hearted. Cr-cr-cry since the day we parted. T-t-touch but I got nobody, so I do it solo!!_

_It’s solo_ repeats as she dances along and alters her original beat. Her hands slide over the table, hips swaying as the songs fade in and out, switching up and keeping the beat quick to keep everyone moving. About a third of the way through she switches up again, interweaving Paramore’s ‘hard times’ in.

 _Hard times_ it says, the beat stopping before _gonna make you wonder why you ever try._

 _Hard times,_ it stops again then _gonna take you down and laugh when you cry._

 _These lives,_ everyone anticipates the pause and when the next lyrics spring to life she points into the crowd, muttering the words _and I still don’t know how I even survive!_

 _Hard times._ Pause. _Hard times._ Pause. _And I gotta get to rock bottom._

She scratches the track and switches to her original mix and her original mix alone. Original lyrics are optional, but not wanting to showcase her voice and having limited options she uses the next forty-five seconds to showcase what she is proud of without any songs overlapping.

The next thirty are spent slowing the beat down, switching it up and adding Mariana and the Diamonds ‘Rootless’ around two thirds in. After Regionals, she’d started playing it on repeat, the least she could do was put it to good use.

 _Running with my roots pulled up. Caught me cold so they could cut. What there was left of love, I’m rootless. I’m rootless. I’m rootless._ She returns to the original mix beneath, keeping the tempo fast enough for the crowd to keep focused. They remain dancing and she breathes out in relief as the song continues. _Lower case society. Tied to no community. A kingdom without a king. With no sense of belonging. I’m rootless._

She’s so far gone into the music, the lyrics cause her to choke up, but she blinks back tears, ignoring her quivering chest and only hopes the emotion translates onto the audience. The rest of the set picks up and with wet eyes she goes out with a bang. To her great relief the crowd is on their feet, clapping and she’s smiling through the tears. Exposing herself bare is never easy, but to do it in front of a crowd and the woman she can pretend she doesn’t want there, it leaves Emma’s chest quivering when the commentator praises her.

“Now that was something!” she says, as Emma runs down the stairs, restless energy and the need to lie down for a few hours steering her in different directions. “Give it up for DJ Swan!” The crowd cheers again as she slips out the side door and into the area designated for contestants only.

She shakes her hands out and bounces on the spot. The door opens and closes. “I like your guts,” she says, “I’m not even taking that big a risk.” Emma swallows at the sound of her voice. She wants to tell her to leave, to stop with the texting, to stop acting like she’d done nothing wrong. “But that was fucking something, Miss Swan.”

The acquired name has her stomach clench. When she turns and faces Regina it drops. The full face of make-up isn’t enough to cover the bags beneath her eyes, or the way they don’t shine quite like they used to. “You think?” she asks, because the crowd had been amazing, but they didn’t decide who went through.

“Are you kidding?” Regina reaches out then crosses her arms, thinking better of it. Emma’s disappointed for half a second then realises she can hardly feel that way. Not when those little touches were half the reason for this animosity. “Emma, you should be proud of yourself.”

“Thanks,” she mutters, lowering her eyes and clasping her hands together. Her shoulders sway like a child receiving praise, and her timid eyes peak up. They connect with Regina’s and the betrayal filters through her system. “I erm…I have to go get to Henry. Good luck.”

“Thank you.” Emma hears, but before she can walk away soft fingers take her hand and squeeze. “Could we talk at some point?” Regina asks again. “Please, Emma. You deserve a proper explanation and not some hurried apology.” Not when Emma’s shattering heart is a mirror of her own. “Tomorrow night we could perhaps grab a drink?”

“I don’t know, Regina.”

Redness adds to the bags beneath Regina’s eyes when she whispers, “ _please_.”  

Emma nods. “I’ll have to check with Mary Margaret. To make sure she’s okay staying with Henry. We could get a drink after he’s gone to bed tomorrow evening.”

“Whatever works for you.” She gives Emma’s hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. “Thank you.”

If she’d thought her heart had been racing quickly when she’d been in that booth she’d been mistaken. For it sounds like it’s actually humming when she finally pushes past Regina and out of the arena.

 

* * *

 

For the rest of the day Emma witnesses mind blowing set after set. Every person had clearly earned their place at this stage, but in the blonde’s eyes, nothing compares to when Regina takes the spotlight. She had been placed in one of the last groups of the day. The crowd stands and gives her a hearty cheer. Some people hold up signs in encouragement. Some of those signs are rainbow coloured with gay puns.

Emma smiles a little at them before she sucks in a breath and holds it, shuffling on her seat.

Energy surrounds Regina and she closes her eyes, allowing tension to roll from her body. Emma remains in awe at the transformation, the way her eyes open and focus. “The one and only, DJ Regal!” the commentator yells, stretching out her name and repeatedly lifting a palm into the air until the crowd had gotten louder.

The chords of a song play faintly beneath Paloma Faith’s ‘Do you want the truth or something beautiful’ that has Emma frowning and sitting up straighter. The slow song gives her pause, but whatever she’s doing resonates with the crowd.

 _Do you want the truth or something beautiful_ the haunting voice sings, and the chords add weight and beauty, _just close your eyes and make believe. Do you want the truth or something beautiful? I am happy to deceive you._

The chords become louder and overpower the song, until it fades out and she switches songs, staying with the same artist. _Only love can hurt like this,_ the voice sings, causing Emma to gulp. Regina begins to pick up the pace, gets the crowd dancing then shows off some of her original mixes. It’s electronic. Full of surprise on the one hand, but the array of talent she can pull from shouldn’t surprise anyone. It sets the energy in the room to astounding levels and it pulsates through Emma’s body.

The electronic mixes with a sound Emma hadn’t heard before. It’s soft and the lyrics are quiet;

 

_I'm homesick_

_I_ _'ve got a lot on my mind_

 _I_ _'m pathetic_

 _I_ _never know when I'm right_

_I'm rock bottom_

_I'll paint a smile for now_

_I've got a feeling you're the reason_

_I will let you down, down, down._

 

The volume quietens with the repeated word until she scratches, and it booms into the chorus of the band.

 

_I'm blaming everything that's happening_

_All on me, all on me_

_And who will be the first to finally see_

_And save me, save me?_

_We're all liars and let truth be told_

_I_ _'m lost and so afraid._

 

The final sentence repeats as deep chords play beneath it. Emma’s fingers clench around the edge of the seat. Regina’s face is hard as stone and less relaxed than a few minutes previous. The set speeds up slightly then comes to an end.

It’s a truly beautiful set, one not compromised on popular songs or easy dance beats that gets the crowd on their feet, but by a genuine finesse of blends and rise and falls and _emotion._ Regina’s smile wobbles when she looks out at the crowd, and for a second Emma wonders if she’s looking for her. Except that would be absurd. She’s probably looking for her _girlfriend_. She pushes the thought away and joins the crowd on their feet, but the feeling of eyes searching remains.

 

* * *

 

Anything and everything else that’s happening turns to white noise. Her eyes glue to the sheet of paper and the rankings. Bottom ten are automatically eliminated, and the rest are paired for battle. It’s randomized and almost acts like a knock out round. If you beat the other pair in battle you battle again until another ten contestants, or five pairs, make it through.

It’s brutal, and the year before she’d watched the videos on YouTube and pouted whilst relieved she hadn’t been put through it. She’d ended up on the phone with Ruby who had laughed at Emma’s panic for the following year and told her the pairs weren’t there to cause tension, but to test who worked well with others. The winner would have to mesh well with other people’s sounds and skill levels. If they can’t do that then there’s little point in them advancing to the final round.

Emma gulps and stares again. When she emerges from the crowd of people Ruby and Mary Margaret look to her expectantly. Her face is blank and Henry toddles over, yanking on her pants until he’s on her hip. “Why so sad, mommy?” he asks, melting into her. She squeezes him, eyes closed and takes a moment to breathe him in.

“Oh, honey.” Mary Margaret grips her shoulder.

Ruby, not so quick to judge Emma’s expression as sad, taps her other one. “So?”

Her head lifts from against her son’s and a slow smile spreads on her cheeks. “Third,” she mutters, but nothing registers. “I ranked third.”

Ruby hits her back twice as hard that time causing her to jerk slightly, but she can’t find it within herself to care. Mary Margaret beams. “I knew you could do it. As long as you keep believing in yourself,” she says, and although her consistent hope speeches were a nuisance on occasion, this time she nods excitedly.

“Yeah,” she whispers with hopeful eyes. She bounces Henry, focusing on her main reason for doing this. “What are we going to do first if I win?” she asks him, not that he has much concept of money.

“Eat chocolate cake!”

“You heard the kid,” she says, smiling warmly at her friends, “chocolate cake is first on the agenda.” Her phone buzzes. She lets her wiggling son down and reaches for it. **Congratulations <3 **It’s simple, but the added red heart makes hers flutter. “But first,” she says, “I erm…need go see Regina.”

She avoids Mary Margaret’s eyes, still feeling ashamed for asking for money. She hadn’t been fazed and easily takes a hold of Henry’s hand. “Should we go and get that McDonald’s now?” she asks. His eyes widen, and he begins bouncing on the spot.

“Thanks,” she mutters, “catch up with you guys later?”

“Say bye, mommy,” Mary Margaret encourages.

“Bye mommy!” He waves enthusiastically, more so than usual, but she can hardly blame the kid when the prospect of chicken nuggets is involved.

“I need to run, too,” Ruby says, “the pairs will be up in about thirty minutes.” Emma takes a deep breath and nods, excited and nervous to find out who she’ll be competing with.

 **Thank you.** She types. **Congratulations to you, too**. She spends the next few minutes deciding on a heart. In the end she adds a yellow one and hits send before she can stop herself. _Maybe they can save their friendship after all._ Regina had ranked seventh, an impressive achievement too. **Where are you?** She sends a second later after she’d swivelled her head around the lobby without catching sight of Regina.

**Thank you. I went back to my room**

Emma doesn’t reply, instead heads for the elevator with the envelope of cash in her bag. Her cheeks flush bright red, partly because of embarrassment. It’s a lot of money to someone who has so little, and to part ways with it, whether it is hers or not, is far from easy. But she knows if she wants to try and be friends with Regina, she has to even out the ground. She takes deep breaths when walking down the hotel corridor then quickly knocks on Regina’s hotel room.

The door opens, and Mal clenches the fist by her side. “I’m presuming you’re here for Regina?” she asks, and her jaw tightens, and eyes shine when she looks away.

“Yeah.”

“Emma?” Regina says, her head popping around the room. “What are you…?” she rushes closer to the door and places a hand on Mal’s arm. “Give us a minute, please.”

When Mal only nods, Regina flickers her eyes to Emma then pushes on her toes to press her lips to her girlfriend’s cheek to reassure her. She nods again, looser this time, then looks at Regina and takes her all in as if the moment she leaves the room she’ll never see her again. Regina squirms under the strong gaze, and kindly squeezes Mal’s arm before stepping out of the room.

Emma nods, following beside Regina. She stops them near the elevators and grabs her wrist lightly. “What did you come to see me for?” It dangles between them, and Emma regrets moving away from the touch to rummage in her bag.

“This-” she pulls out the envelope, holding it between them. “It’s everything I owe you.”

Regina shakes her head, mouth slackening. “I’m not taking that,” she says, slowly lifting her eyes until their gazes meet. Emma keeps it in the air between them, unable to place it back in her bag. Her pride wouldn’t allow it, and it had already taken a hit when she’d asked for help in the first place.

“Regina, please. I owe it to you.”

“Emma,” she says thickly, taking a few paces backwards. “You think I care about the money?”

“It doesn’t matter. I damaged your car and-”

“And it was fixed months ago. Emma-” her palms rise as Emma lowers her arm, “if you try to give it to me I promise I’ll find a way to get it back to you. Even if I have to mail it.”

Emma taps the envelope against her thigh. What was she supposed to do? “Regina, I don’t…”

“Put it back in your bag,” she says softly, “then why don’t we go down and see the pairings?”

“What about Mal?” she asks, regretting it with Regina’s flinch. The envelope is crunched in her palm, part of her wanting to shove it against Regina’s chest and the other wanting cuddle it against her own.

“She’ll be fine,” she says, turning to face the doors and waiting in silence. It pings open and they walk inside. Regina leans over Emma to hit the button, and smirks. “Third, huh?”

Now that the envelope has been placed inside her bag, she shoves her hands in her jean pockets and shrugs. “Yeah,” she says, smiling sheepishly, “I can hardly believe it.”

“I can.”

Emma bobs her head with a blush on her cheeks. “Thanks.”

It’s silent on the way down, and they steal quick, shy glances at each other. By the time they reach the bottom floor Emma’s ready to pull Regina into her arms, hold ~~ing~~ her close whilst she tells her all is forgiven. Her arms won’t move, however, so when the doors ping open she steps outside without a word, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

They push past the hurdle of people to the little piece of paper on the notice board. Emma sees it first, eyes wide and breath coming in quickly. It stays in her chest, because she forgets how to let it back out. Regina places her finger to the paper and slides it down until she finds her name. “We’re…?”

The breath comes flying out of Emma’s mouth, “yeah.”

Regina can’t hold down her grin when they shove their way back through the crowd. Emma’s less certain, eyes still wide and unable to comprehend that supposedly random occurrence. “What are the chances?” she asks, chuckling awkwardly.

Regina shrugs one shoulder. “All things aside, we’re flying through to the next round,” she says confidently.

“Yeah,” Emma says, face slowly morphing from concern to excitement. There are worse people she could have been paired with, and she knows without a doubt they’ll both be able to put their feelings aside and focus on the competition. “We’ve got this.”

Regina smiles, but it fades at the buzzing of her phone. She pulls it out and stares at the screen. “I’ve got to go,” she says through gritted teeth. “Otherwise my head’s going to be on a pike before we make it to tomorrow.” The smile she offers is weak, and Emma shoves her hurt aside.

“Are you okay?” she asks, something feeling very off. There’s a weak smile offered when they walk inside of the elevator. “Regina?” she whispers, concern growing.

“I didn’t mean to cause this,” she says, rocking back on her heels. “She’s hurting,” she whispers, then lowers her eyes. Emma stays silent. “But I-” when Regina looks up Emma feels as if her legs have been cut off at the knees. There’s longing and hurt of her own, and then she reaches out to lightly cup Emma’s cheek. “I’ll see you in rehearsal,” she says as the doors slide open. Then she’s gone. Emma hits the button for the floor up and stares at the closing doors as if they might give her real answers.

 

* * *

 

Emma’s more nervous about spending the next couple hours with Regina than about the competition itself. She’s nervous about that too, but with the boost in confidence she’d received with her ranking, and confident as she is in Regina’s talent, those nerves are put on hold.

Regina smiles diplomatically when she walks into the rehearsal space, but her eyes are no longer dull. “Hi, Emma,” she says, hand resting on her bicep. “Ready to get started?” Emma nods and sucks in a breath, readying herself for battle. “Do you have any thoughts on how you’d like to go about this?” she asks, directing her past other mix tables that had already been taken until they’re in the furthest corner.

“Wing it?” Emma asks, shrugging with a sheepish smile. “It’s not like this is usual territory for any of us.” This is supposed to be a one-man gig, but Regina rolls her eyes, clearly not on the same wave length. “I’m just saying, we could take it in turns but I don’t think that would work, either. There’s no systematic approach here.”

“We’re not children,” she says, grabbing a pair of headphones and pushing them over her head. “Well, some of us aren’t,” she mutters, one eye closing briefly before the other. Emma wonders for a moment if she has a twitch in her eyes then chuckles to herself.

“I can be a responsible adult.” She bumps Regina’s hip with her own then shoves the other set of headphones over her head. “What ideas do you have?”

“I was thinking we could put some sounds together now. See how we mesh and what our strengths are. We have an hour to figure this out, and hopefully whatever bounces at us we’ll know who needs to take over. Does that sound acceptable?”

“Sounds perfect.” Emma slides the volume up on the table and chooses a random song from the laptop plugged in. For the next twenty minutes they have a mini-battle of their own, and it only ends when Emma reaches across the mix table and messes with the tempo, actively blocking Regina from retaliating.

Regina stretches over her arm, chuckling, “Emma,” then tries to flip a switch. Unable to reach she ducks beneath Emma’s arms then shoves the volume down all together. “Like I said. Child,” she says slowly, as if sounding the word out.

Emma giggles, brushes some hair back then grabs some water. When she returns, Regina’s shoulders are more relaxed and she wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Ready to get back to work?”

Emma grins, “definitely.”

They spend the rest of the time goofing around and messing with each other, but it does its job because the moment Ruby comes into the room with her clipboard, the nerves Emma had expected to hit her gut in full force don’t arrive. They simmer beneath the surface, but between them she knows they’re prepared for anything.

Ruby calls one pair then looks to the back of the room. Her head shakes when she meets Emma’s eyes. “Emma and Regina,” she calls, winking at the pair. “You’re up.”

Regina takes a deep breath then turns to Emma. “Ready?” she asks her. Their eyes meet, and Emma feels ready for anything. She nods then takes a breath of her own before they walk out onto the stage.

The last battle felt as if her world had been slowly collapsing in on itself but having Regina by her side it feels like it’s building itself back together piece by piece. She shakes out her arms then readies herself opposite the other pair. “We’re getting through,” she says to Regina who’s already set up to her right. The determined nod she receives increases her confidence.

The other pair does give them a worthy fight, they miss a few good opportunities, but master even more; they work great together, they complement each other’s choices as if they had been doing this forever, it’s the musical equivalent to finishing each other’s sentences and Emma feels like falling in love a little deeper, but she ignores _that_ feeling and focuses on the euphoria instead. Emma finally feels like she _belongs_ and she doesn’t want this moment to ever end.

Eventually it does end and there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that they are fantastic together.

The moment their names are called it’s like all sound drains from the room. The only thing Emma can feel are Regina’s arms wrapped around her neck, and her body pressed against her own. Her arms work enough to hold her back, and they sway on the spot only tightening their hold for every second they’re embraced.

It’s only when Regina pulls away that sound filters back in; the cheering crowd, Ruby whistling, the commentator cheering them on, but her eyes are glued to the woman in front of her. Reality kicks her in the gut when she moves an inch closer, reminding herself she can’t do that. “Congratulations,” she says hoarsely.

Regina takes a hold of her hand as they exit the stage. “It was a team effort,” she says, directing Emma to where Mary Margaret and Henry are clapping. “Are we still okay for later?” she asks, eyes finding Emma’s until she gets an answer.

“Yeah.” It comes out a little too quiet, so she clears her throat and repeats, “yeah, I’ll give you a text,” before turning to Henry and grabbing him by the waist until he’s comfortable on her hip.

“Okay.” Regina smiles at them, hand ruffling Henry’s hair as the four of them walk out of the noisy arena.

“Congratulations,” Mary Margaret says, squeezing Emma’s arms. She flashes a brief smile at Regina, but neither of them comments on it. Henry gives her a cuddle and she squeezes him tightly, noticing Regina still hovering near them.

“Thanks,” Emma mutters, then looks up.

“About what Mal said-” Regina swallows, hand coming up to gently rub Henry’s back. She smiles softly at him. “She took it out of context.”

“It’s fine-”

“It’s not, Emma.”

Henry pops his head up and seems weary suddenly. “Mommy,” he whispers, “why the pwetty lady mad?”

Regina tips her head to the side, unable to stay away from the small child. “I’m not mad, sweetheart,” she whispers, and he nods, placated for the moment. “I never told her that I didn’t want children, but I did say I wouldn’t want them for fear of being a terrible mother.”

“Oh,” is all Emma can think to say, but then she sees the way Regina pulls faces at Henry until he giggles and kicks his legs. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“She’s silly, mommy,” Henry says, cuddling into her further.

Emma rubs his back, “yeah, she is,” and keeps eye contact. A faint blush grows up Regina’s cheeks, before she ducks her head. It’s then she notices Mal hanging in the background, and she tips her chin upwards whilst looking at Regina.

Regina twists her head around briefly. “I should get going,” Regina says to Emma, “but have fun celebrating.”

“Celebrating?” Emma frowns, the entire reason they had been up on that stage fading into the background until that moment. Her eyes widen then she jumps with Henry still in her arms. “We’re going to finals!”

Regina chuckles, “yes, we are,” then goes to press a kiss to Emma’s cheek. Pulling back at the last minute, she smiles tightly, “I’ll see you later,” then turns and heads towards her girlfriend who’s looking at them curiously. Emma watches as their fingers slip together, swallows and looks away.  

“I’m so proud of you,” Mary Margaret says, “once Ruby has finished we’re going out to dinner.”

“Since when?” Emma asks her, juggling her toddler and swivelling him to the other hip.

“Since we decided you deserve it.”

She sways her shoulders, muttering a, “thank you.” She’s excited, and there’s very little that would make Emma say no to food, but the excitement slips when she lifts her eyes and Regina has already left.

 

* * *

 

They grab a drink and head outside to the area with benches and a railing that goes around the park. “I never intended to hurt you,” Regina begins, only stopping when her back presses against the railing. Emma stands beside her, beer bottle in hand and nods once. She’s sure of that, but Regina had hurt her regardless, and she can’t bring herself to tell her it’s okay.

“I know,” she says, “I don’t really know what there is to explain but have at it.”

Regina flinches. She takes a sip of her martini then sighs deeply. “We’ve been together for four years, Mal and I-” her head lowers, fingers tapping against the glass. “After father died she was there. She’d liked me for a while before then, but I didn’t…” the sigh takes tremendous effort, and part of her resents having to share these details. It’s justifiable to be defensive over her choices, but then she catches the quiet longing in Emma’s eyes. Perhaps understanding will hurt less. The next sigh is easier. “She was there, and it was easy. It was _so_ easy,” to let go, to allow someone else to guide her through the pain, to take care of her.

To have someone willing to stay through the ugly parts. The late-night crying and days in bed. “I feel…obligated,” she says through gritted teeth. Emma nods and one look into her eyes makes the words easier to form. “I care for her and I think part of me has learnt to love her. I thought it would be enough,” she says, voice quietening by the end of that sentence. She lets it dangle.

Emma shoves her free hand into her jacket pocket and turns away. “You could have told me.” Plain and simple. Emma has no problem keeping her emotions bottled up. Friends she could have done. “You lead me on. Made me think we had a chance.” That’s the worst part. Even worse is when Regina twists her head and her eyes are filled with longing.

“I know,” she whispers, lowering her eyes. Regina tightens her fingers into a fist then stretches them out, contemplating…contemplating her thoughts as if this was a therapy session. She breathes them in. For Emma. “I didn’t want you to know,” she admits, “I know it was selfish, but I liked how a look could make you flush.” Intoxicating is an understatement. She had wanted more; to hear Emma’s breath hitch, to see her chest shallow or eyes gleam. It had been so long since she had felt so alive. “It was unfair, but…”

Emma feels the heat in her cheeks. Regina chuckles wetly, and Emma wants to hate her or hate herself, but this vulnerable side of Regina is becoming a weakness. “I erm…” she grimaces at herself before the rest of the words are out. “I’ve had a crush on you for years.” Regina’s eyebrows skyrocket. “I’d been following you for a while, listening to your mixes and stuff.” She presses her elbows to the railing and bows her head, saying quietly, “you being an out lesbian changed my life.”

Regina’s quiet. Looking at Emma intensely like it would allow her to understand what she had meant. Emma’s quiet too, beside the nail scratching at the label on the bottle of beer. “I struggled with my sexuality for a while,” Emma says, “it wasn’t until I saw you on YouTube that I,” she chuckles awkwardly, avoiding eye contact, “you get the point.”

“Yeah.” It had been a purposeful decision to be out. After her experiences with mother and living with people closed minded and hateful, but she’d never realised she would reach people. Real people. Like Emma. “I’m glad my stunning figure could help you out.”

“Your stunning figure was my lesbian awakening.” She throws a smirk Regina’s way, still embarrassed at admitting this.

Except Regina frowns. “I thought you were bi?” Emma shakes her head, eyes falling back over the railing to the ground below. “Oh.”

“Yeah…”

“With Henry I presumed…”

Emma shrugs, “I get it.”

“You weren’t…” Regina can’t get the rest of sentence out, but her chest deflates at Emma’s shake of her head.

“I’d never really had anyone, you know? He was there.” Until he wasn’t. “It wasn’t until I was pregnant that I started to consider that maybe I wasn’t straight. Then with Henry it’s not as if I’ve had time to date.”

The implication doesn’t sink in, not right away. Not until Regina runs her eyes over Emma’s stiff body, the way she won’t look up, the label that’s been torn to shreds. “Emma…”

Her shoulders lift then fall, and still the silence remains. It’s only broken by a strangled laugh and Emma saying, “at least I finally understand why people like to kiss. Why there’s so many songs written about it.”

“Emma…” but what is she supposed to say?

“It’s fine. How would you know? I’m twenty-eight, yet I’ve never even kis-” her eyes gleam when she looks at Regina, filled with raw pain and resentment, “I suppose I have _now_.” The smile cuts Regina in two. There’s hope within, but it wobbles and all she can seem to do is nod. It feels like she’d taken something important.

“I never meant…” apologies only went so far, because not having the pieces of Emma’s life was one thing, but intent was another entirely. “Is there anything I could do to make this right?”

Emma swallows and takes a swig of the beer. Their eyes connect before Emma lowers them with a whispered, “I don’t know,” because her insides sting whenever she looks too hard.

“I’m sorry,” she says anyway. “For what it’s worth, I do like you. What’s happening between us _is_ real.” So very real her heart’s being torn to shreds. “I know I was out of line, but everything’s complicated with Mal.” The tears bundle in her throat, making it hard to breathe.

 _Is_ flies around Emma’s mind; not _was?_ “I don’t know how I feel,” she mutters, glancing to her right. Regina’s gaze remains intense, and she doesn’t know how she feels about that either. “No one’s ever looked twice at me.”  

“I’m certain that’s not true,” Regina says hoarsely. “You’re beautiful,” she whispers shakily. The little upturn of Emma’s lips, even if it falls a second later, was worth it. She’s staring at her lips still, she knows, but she can’t look away.

“You’re…” but she can’t bring herself to say it. Emma pushes from the railing, “I can’t do this,” she says as she shakes her head. Then she looks up at Regina, exposed and vulnerable, and what she really wants is to imagine a future that’s a little less lonely. But she can’t, _can’t_ trust that Regina isn’t like everyone else. Not when she’s already proven otherwise.

“I’m sorry,” Emma says, not sure why she is the one apologising. Maybe it’s the shoulders that have curled forwards, the glistening eyes and tight nod. Like Regina had already accepted the loss.

It shatters a tiny part of Emma, because she’s unsure if she is making the right decision. She turns to leave, and a small part had hoped Regina would deem her worthy enough to fight for, but the only thing that greets Emma when she walks away is silence.

 

* * *

 

Regina pushes into the hotel room the moment Mal’s naked body is stretched and a piece of silk fabric runs down her raised arms. She shimmies it into place. It exposes her cleavage and stops a few inches below her hips. Mal flips her hair back as Regina drops her bag beside the door, turns and offers up a wry smile. “How was your talk?” she asks, extending an arm out as if she knows how this is going to end.

Regina’s reply is to take her hand and use the other to gently push some hair behind Mal’s ear. She shivers in response, eyes briefly fluttering closed before they bore back into Regina’s face. She takes in every inch before dipping her head to press a kiss to Regina’s lips.

Guilt flares in her gut, but she ignores it by kissing harder and squeezing the hand in her own. Her free palm pushes under the silk material, resting on Mal’s hip. A hand comes up to push on the back of her head as she’s kissed back ferociously. The intensity sends a tingle down her spine, causing her toes to curl and a faint moan to push from her chest. It’s easier to stop thinking and let her body take over, to let Mal take over. She doesn’t protest when fingers shove the jacket from her shoulders then run down the buttons of her shirt.

Mal leads her to the bed, only pausing the kiss long enough for them to tug at clothing. She occasionally glances into her eyes to take them in before removing more barriers. Once they’re exposed Mal maps her body with her hands and lips, expertly bringing her to climax over and over again. She crawls back up her body, licking her glistening lips and only then does Regina tug her down and slip a hand between them.

Their lips find their way back together as Mal rocks on top of her, eventually climaxing with her face pressed to Regina’s neck. She mutters out an _I love you_ that has Regina ignoring her quaking thighs when Mal touches her again and devours every inch of her lover. It’s only when their chests heave and their bodies gleam with sweat that they fall to their backs, panting heavily.

Regina shuffles and tugs Mal onto her chest, softly stroking her arm and running fingers through her hair until her breathing comes out deep and even. After gently kissing her temple, she slips out from under her, throws on a long shirt then steps out onto the balcony.

The doors open behind her almost an hour later. The tears tracks on her cheeks had dried, but threaten to start again when familiar arms circle her waist. “You’re leaving me, aren’t you?” she asks then drops a kiss to the dip in Regina’s neck.

Her first instinct is to apologise, but she battles it down when they both know this had been a long time coming. “I care about you” she whispers delicately, tipping herself backwards against the soft body. Those arms tighten before slipping away. Another kiss is pressed to the top of her head, before Mal trails her fingers up and down Regina’s back. “Mal,” she says thickly.

“Is it her?” she asks, voice sounding distant and broken.

She shrugs with a whispered, “maybe,” then shakes her head. Regina turns then takes Mal’s hand, guiding her into the room. They perch on the edge of the messy bed, Mal’s back in her silk night wear. “She reminded me that I want more,” she says honestly, no matter how brutal it might sound.

Mal nods and leaves her head hanging, causing Regina to gently cup her cheek and guide her head up. “I do love you,” she says softly, “and I wish I could be everything you deserve, but I _can’t._ ”

Mal’s eyes well, then the tears spill over, silently running down her cheeks. Her voice is hoarse and high pitched when she says, “I want _you._ ”  

“I’m so sorry,” she says, thumb brushing along those tears. When they don’t stop Regina leans forwards until their noses brush, and she hesitates, unsure if this will make it better now and harder later, then pushes her lips to Mal’s when all she can do is make it better now. They quiver and taste of salt, but she holds them there until Mal slowly pulls them apart.

“Come back to bed,” Regina says softly, easily guiding her back into the twisted covers. She crawls onto her chest and allows the woman who had always been there for her to wrap her up and hold her one last time. The whimper hurts, but all she can do is squeeze her tighter and comfort the woman who loves her enough to let her walk away.


	6. Chapter 6

A month goes by where Emma exists in a daze. She hadn’t heard from Regina since their talk at the hotel and her fingers itch to message her. If it wasn’t for Henry and Mary Margaret’s presence she would have caved already and called her, if only to confirm she will be seeing her at finals one last time before she disappears from her life.

When Emma had given back the envelope with the car reparations’ money to Mary Margaret, the brunette hadn’t said anything to Emma, instead she had gently cupped her cheek then placed a soft kiss to her temple and offered to use the money to get new clothes for Henry. It’d had been almost motherly, and Emma wanted to snuggle into her and get the comfort she’d been denied as a little girl, and so she’d blinked back tears and offered a thank you in the form of a nice cup of tea and cleaned the apartment from top to bottom.

When Emma wasn’t daydreaming about her next meeting with Regina, (and what she would say that wouldn’t make her sound _desperate_ ) she’d spent most of her free time with Henry or practicing for finals. In between that she’d checked her phone obsessively. But it had been easy to stop thinking about the brunette for a few minutes at a time when Henry had giggled, or when his eyes had lit up at the sight of his new pyjamas with trucks on them. Small victories.

Normally Emma would have fought him on keeping them on during the day, but all she had wanted to do was stay in her pyjamas too. Mary Margaret had returned home from work to find them both eating their way through a pack of Oreos with a Disney movie on in the background. Emma had been slumped on the couch, Henry playing at her feet, and she had shrugged and not offered an explanation.

It’d becomes routine, and today Emma had intended to continue with the tradition and spend the whole day in the couch with her son.

No such luck, she thinks, when she hears someone softly knocking on her door. She suspects who it is at once, but when the knocks come again and she’s still wearing pyjamas and there’s red rings around both her eyes, she doesn’t have the opportunity to freshen up and put on a front. Regina’s there when she opens the door, gorgeous as ever, shuffling awkwardly and dressed to perfection.

Emma looks down at herself then shrugs. “What are you doing here?” she asks, but it comes out tired and less snarky than she’d desired.

“I honestly don’t know.” Regina lifts her shoulders with a wry smile. “I wanted to see you.” It’s at that moment that her eyes run the length of Emma, and by the time she reaches the messy bun her head tips and eyes squint. “Can I come inside?”

Emma nods and allows her into the apartment awkwardly fixing her hair. Regina smiles tightly then walks inside, leaving Emma shuffling by the door, helpless to do anything other than watch. _Regina is here!_ Regina spins a few paces away, lower lip between her teeth and appears as lost as Emma feels. She pushes the door shut and leans against it. Their eyes meet, and Emma looks away shyly. “Would you like a drink?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” she says politely, as if they are casual acquaintances and hadn’t shared a life-changing kiss. Emma swallows thickly and nods.   

Henry lifts his eyes from where he’d been playing with his new baby doll. Or more accurately, he’s pulling the clothes off then pressing the fake bottle into its mouth. He leaves it in favour of getting up and toddling across the room. He presses his face behind Emma’s leg, and she’s jealous she has nothing to hide behind. “It’s the pretty lady, remember?” she says softly.

He nods and pokes his head out. Emma chuckles and grabs his hand, directing him towards the couch. “Hello, Henry,” Regina says, elegantly sitting down on the couch and handing over the toy elephant. He snatches it with a gasp and holds it to his chest.

“What do we say back?” Emma asks, gently tapping his back. She’s almost grateful for the buffer. He shoves the elephant’s trunk into his mouth with his wide eyes staring up. Emma chuckles and sits beside Regina. “It’s not you. He isn’t around many people, so he gets shy.”

“But at the pool…?”

“A novelty,” she says, “he was overexcited, but I wouldn’t worry. Sometimes he’s all over Ruby, and other times it takes him a while to warm up to her.”   

Regina nods slowly, eyeing the small child uncertainly. “That can’t be hygienic,” she says, receiving a pointed stare from Emma. “Right. He’s three.”

Emma laughs again and bumps her shoulder. “You know he’s not going to bite, right?”

“He might-” she smirks, wanting to engrain that soft look into her mind to hold onto it forever. “I’m not great with children,” she says, “but erm…” she rummages through her handbag then pulls out a yellow stuffed toy. Emma bites down on the grin when she notices the one eye.

Henry gasps, “minion!”

“He needed a home,” Regina says, as if she hadn’t bought it on the way over, “you think you can look after him?” He nods repetitively, and the elephant falls to the floor in favour of him wrapping his tiny arms around the toy.

“You my fwend?” he asks, and for a moment Regina thinks he’s talking to the minion. His little eyes look up at her expectantly, and the way her heart melts is unprecedented to anything she’d ever felt.

She smiles and leans forwards before whispering, “I’d love to be.”

He beams for a second before toddling off to play with the new toy. “You’ll be his best friend forever, now,” Emma says, “he loves minions more than almost anything.”

Regina smiles softly, her hand crawling along the couch towards Emma's. Her pinkie finger wraps around Emma's and she whispers, "I've missed you," like she's allowed to have those feelings. 

Emma doesn't look away this time, and she doesn't move her hand. She should; for all she knows Regina has a wife now, but her heart hammers too loudly for her to ignore. "Me too," she says softly then finally comes back to herself. 

Her hands shove beneath her knees and she focuses on Henry. "Was there a reason you came?" she asks, the _unannounced_ omitted, replaced by an encouraging smile.

"Yes. I was wondering if you'd sorted out transportation and the hotel for Chicago?" And she bounces a little, a hopeful gleam in her eyes. 

Despite herself, Emma chuckles. "No. I haven't." 

"Considering you've have an extremely intimate relationship with my car," she says, bumping Emma's shoulder, "I was wondering if you wanted to drive there with me?" Emma's eyes go comically wide. "And we could share a room. If you want to, but I would understand if you didn’t want to share with me.”  

"Erm..." she rubs the back of her neck and mentally works out the costs. It would be cheaper. A lot cheaper. As much as she'd appreciated the financial help during semi-finals and was still unsure exactly how Ruby had managed to include Mary Margaret and Henry's expenses into the mix, she can't expect them to help again. But this...

"You don't have to answer right away." 

"I don't think I can say no," Emma admits, and shakes her head. “But with Henry…” she trails off and looks at her son, only wishing she could take him with her. She rubs the back of her neck, contemplating it. It pains her to be away from him, luckily Mary Margaret had volunteered to watch him, the brunette is so good with him, he wouldn’t mind Emma’s absence too much thanks to her. “When would we go?”

“It’s takes about twelve-hours to drive there, so I was thinking the Thursday before the competition. I’d have to stop off overnight, but if it’s a problem we could set off early Friday morning.”

“No. Regina. You can’t drive for twelve hours straight.” Regina hums, because she knows this, but Emma breathes the offer in. It’s generous, and Regina being here shows she is trying to mend things. Is that what this is about? Does Regina want to go back to being friends? She wonders. “Give me a sec,” she says, “Mary Margaret is upstairs. You okay to watch him whilst I run upstairs?” she asks Regina.

“Of course,” she says, but the small grimace doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Be good for the pretty lady,” Emma says to Henry with mischief in her eyes. “Mommy’s just going to get Mary Margaret.” He squints his eyes and moves his gaze to the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll be a few minutes kid.” He’s still contemplating following when she gives Regina a pointed stare and makes a quick dash for it.

Regina shuffles to the edge of the couch. “What are you playing?” she asks, aiming for a nice smile that won’t frighten the child. For a moment his bottom lip juts out, so she slides from the couch and sits on the ground. “Do you like your mommy’s music?” she asks, keeping it to something she could talk about. If a three year old is capable of talking about such a thing. She has no idea.

“Where mommy go?” he asks, flickering his eyes to the stairs then back to Regina.

“She’s just gone upstairs, sweetheart.” Regina feels a tightness relieve in her chest when he nods then shuffles closer. The minion is still beneath his arm, and he tugs on the toy cars, arranging them in front of Regina’s crossed legs. “Which is your favourite car?” she tries again.

He squints his face for a moment, before pointing to one. “The yellow one,” he says, “it mommy’s favourite colour.”

“It is?” She’d been going to her messages over these past few weeks and had found herself staring at the heart Emma had sent for longer than she probably should have been doing. She beams at the knowledge. “What’s yours?”

“Pink!” he says, jumping up a little. Regina can’t help but to smile, and it only grows when he sits back on his knees and excitedly asks, “what’s yours?”

“Mine’s purple,” she informs him, already planning to wrap him up and take him home. Emma would no doubt come chasing after him, which gives more merit to the thought.

Before they can really get into a round of questions, Emma jogs down the stairs and brings Mary Margaret back down with her. “Hey,” she says, slowing as she reaches the bottom and takes in the sight of them.

“Mommy!” he jumps up and runs over to his mother. She pats his back gently and guides him back to the few toys scattered on the ground.

Mary Margaret hesitates at the bottom of the stairs and eyes Regina suspiciously. “Are you going to hurt her again?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“Seriously?” Emma hisses, because she doesn’t need someone to come to her defence and embarrass her. Mary Margaret shrugs then glares back at Regina. She’d turned into her most formidable enemy as far as she’s concerned.

“No,” Regina says softly, “I-” she swallows thickly and looks down at her twiddling fingers. “I know not to make the same mistakes twice.” Regina pushes from the ground and stands, lifting her gaze and sighing when Emma looks her way.

Mary Margaret squints her eyes, not convinced. One look to Emma and the heart eyes she’s making across the room has her place her reservations aside. “Okay,” she says, “I can watch him, but if you hurt her again I promise it won’t end well for you.”

“Noted,” Regina says dryly. She doesn’t know this woman, but already the need to despise her flares. Except for their common ground: Emma. It becomes easy to put any negative feelings aside.

“Mary Margaret,” Emma hisses again, not making eye contact with Regina.

Mary Margaret crosses her arms, eyebrows raised as she stares Regina down. “To think I encouraged this from the start,” she mutters, and Emma’s eyes go comically wide.

Regina takes a breath then makes her way to the woman. “Could I have a moment of your time?” she asks, and reluctantly Mary Margaret nods. They make their way into the kitchen, leaving Emma to crouch beside Henry and wonder what’s going on.

“So,” she says, ruffling his hair, “do you like the pretty lady?” because she sure as hell hopes he does. Her being here reminds her traitorous heart of her feelings.

He lifts the minion up with a goofy grin. “She my best fwend,” he says, as if it was that easy, but it calms Emma’s nerves.

They make their way back into the room ten minutes later, and Emma eyes them suspiciously. “The bathroom won’t clean itself,” Mary Margaret says, winks at Emma then toddles back up the stairs.

“What was that about?” Emma asks, sitting back on the couch.

“I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page,” she says, sitting beside Emma. “We’re good to go for the road trip.”

"I don't know how to-" 

"No thanks necessary." The smile warms Emma's heart and makes her giddy. Regina reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind Emma's ear. The soft touch of Regina's fingertip against her skin causes her eyes to flutter closed. "Perhaps it's another excuse for me to spend time with you." 

At that Emma jerks back and away from the touch. She can't fall for this again. She can't fall and this time have her heart shattered into pieces she can't put back together. "Regina. Don't." 

Regina pushes her lips together and nods. She opens her mouth next then stops whatever she had been about to say. "I'm sorry. I don't want you to think this comes with conditions. I understand you're in a difficult place financially. I don't want to back you into a corner."

Emma nods, hating having her weaknesses on display, but perhaps it had been a good thing that she’d shared her difficulties. The road trip, and a shared room, will cut the costs significantly. “Is Mal okay with this?” she asks.

After finding out about their relationship it had been as if she’d been pummelled back in time, back to her possessions being in a black bin bag by the door whilst another child, a better child, had taken her place. No matter the situation, she had always been less. That moment had been a mirror image. Except, none of those foster parents had ever returned.  

“You don’t have to worry about that,” is all she says.

It doesn’t ease her concerns, but she’s sure that Regina wouldn’t offer this without her girlfriend’s knowledge. “Okay,” she says, still a little uncertain.

Regina spots an opening and (almost) manages to wink, "just so you know I haven’t booked a hotel yet" and smirks, "I've looked at a few options around the half way mark, but we're playing Russian roulette with rooms." 

Emma chuckles, relaxing back against the couch. "Was my cuddle game that strong?" she asks, only slightly cringing.

Regina blushes, but covers it with an eye roll. "Don't flatter yourself, dear," she says dryly, "we didn't even spoon." 

 

* * *

 

Regina shifts the gear into first then puts it back into neutral, which is a great start considering they haven’t gotten anywhere yet. “Forgot something?” Emma asks, worry crawling up her spine as if something is going to stop them getting there on time.

A smirk plays on the corner of Regina’s lips that has Emma relaxing and simultaneously rolling her eyes. “I’m not sure I can trust you with the music,” she says, putting the handbrake on then pulls her phone from the drink holder she’d shoved it in. “I made a playlist. I doubt it’ll last us the entire way, though.”

“And I didn’t?” Emma fake pouts and twists her head to look out of the window. The skies are blue with the odd fluffy cloud dotting around. With the temperature slowly rising she presses the button on her side until the window opens by a few inches. A cool breeze wafts into the car.

“But whose playlist is better,” Regina teases, and Emma shoves the end of the wire into the bottom of her phone before Regina beats her to it. Her brow arches slowly, but the smirk that remains causes a tickle in Emma’s stomach. She giggles lightly then hits George Ezra’s ‘Shotgun.’

With a shake of her head, and another quick check in the mirrors, Regina puts the car back into first and lifts the handbrake. She pulls out as Emma leans further into the seat, singing along, “ _I’ll be riding shot gun, underneath the hot sun!”_ just to see Regina smile. “We can switch to yours later, but for now I have some good stuff on here.”

Regina hums, but easily agrees, “if you say so.”

Within a matter of ten minutes the windows have been opened and the music cranked up. They sing loudly, flashing smiles at each other and Emma does some obscure dance moves in the seat. “Have you heard of Anne-Marie?” Emma asks about an hour in, already reaching over to switch to her album.

“I can’t say I have,” Regina says, eyes on the road. “I’m sure you’re going to introduce me.” She takes a deep calming breath, fingers relaxing their tight grip of the wheel.

Emma hits shuffle on the album, muttering along. She grins when Regina’s fingers start tapping against the wheel and she hums along to the songs. The song switches to ‘Can I get your number?’ and as Emma sings along, “ _trying my best to be honest, don’t want to break any promise, but what if this shit is loooooove?”_ she can feel eyes swinging to her before focusing back on the road. She sings louder “ _can I can I get your number tonight? Ah-ah! If I don’t then I might regret it for the rest of my life!”_ and begins to sway her shoulders on the seat.

Regina laughs, “you’re an idiot,” but her eyes are soft when she quickly looks at Emma as they’re stopped at a set of lights. “But this is a fun album.”

“Right?” Emma grins and winks. She gasps when ‘Perfect’ begins. “ _Don’t feel like putting make-up on my cheeks,”_ she sings, bending her arms up and swaying her shoulders then places extra emphasis on the lyrics, “ _so I eat my body weight in chocolate and ice cream.”_

Regina bites down on the grin, amusement growing as Emma gets into the song. 

_“I wish my legs were bigger, bigger than New York City. And I’ll love who I want to love, ‘coz this love is gender free!”_ She points to Regina then her cheeks heat up at her stupid brain getting far too into the song. Luckily enough, Regina smiles and nods, presumably thinking Emma had been referring to how gay they are.

“This is relatable,” she whispers.

Emma hums, and continues loudly, _“I’m not a supermodel from a magazine-”_ her arms lift towards the roof, _“I’m okay with not being perfect, because that’s perfect to me.”_

Regina’s fingers tighten around the wheel the instant she goes to tell Emma’s she’s perfect as she is, but by the way Emma’s still moving along with the song she can almost guess she at least feels it for the moment. “I like it,” she says, mainly because Emma’s beaming and her insecurities seem to be none existent, and although she doesn’t know what they are, she can only imagine what goes on deep inside Emma’s mind.

She wants to know, but at that moment she’s more than content with letting Emma wail at the top of her lungs. It’s fortunate that they’ve had to put their windows up whilst on the freeway otherwise she would be startling passer-byers. Not that her singing voice is bad, just loud, but Regina isn’t about to tell her to turn the volume down when she’s enjoying Emma being so care-free.   

It’s only when the song switches to ‘bad girlfriend’ that Regina tenses up. Emma doesn’t notice, eyes out of the window as she sings along. “ _I’m a bad girlfriend, I’m a bad girlfriend, I can see you calling I’m not answering… ‘coz I’m one in a million, more like in a billion, I don’t think it’s cheating if I’m kissing other women.”_

It’s only then that Regina snorts. “Trying to tell me something, dear?”

Emma shrugs sheepishly, and mumbles, “if the shoe fits…” then grimaces because that seriously did not help. Regina rolls her eyes and sighs deeply. “It’s just a song, Regina. I erm…I made the move, so…” she gently tugs on her hair, focusing on the piece she has wrapped around a finger. “And you did push me away…eventually,” she mumbles, because that kiss had been embedded into her memory. She swallows and twists her head to look out of the window. “Sorry, it was a joke”

Regina nods as the song switches again. “I am sorry,” she says with sincerity, turning them off into a service station. She drives into the parking lot then switches the engine off. Without the music and steady hum of the engine they’re enveloped in silence. Turning to Emma, she sighs, and reaches out to place a hand on her thigh. “I shouldn’t have lied-”

“You didn’t,” she interrupts, head whipping back around. “Well, sort of didn’t,” she amends then takes a breath.

Despite everything that had happened, she doesn’t want another month like the one after semi-finals. She had enjoyed getting to know Regina and had welcomed the feeling of a fluttering stomach in her presence. Her gut tightens when she’s around her now, but if they’re ever going to reach a good place – one of friendship, her mind adds, then she needs to work on being honest, no matter how difficult. “Yeah, erm…you really hurt me,” she says, that tightness in her stomach returning.

The hand on her thigh squeezes. A few of those fingers dig in lightly to the inside of her thigh. Emma swallows, and wills herself not to read into it again. “I hope you can forgive me someday,” she says, squeezing once more before removing the touch. “I am sorry. I was being very selfish. You deserved better.”

Emma doesn’t lift her gaze, but mutters, “I’m getting there,” because she can deny it, but her heart still beats erratically whenever they are together, and she’s never felt quite so breathless around a person.  “I am glad you reached out though,” she says, offering up a genuine smile that lights up her eyes.

“Me too.” Regina shoves the door open then grabs her bag. “And as much as I don’t want to cut this conversation short, I really have to pee.”

Emma laughs, and gets out from the car. Regina’s already waddling along the parking lot and throws her key over one shoulder, hitting the button to lock the car before Emma’s even taken a step out. She laughs harder then jogs to catch up.

 

* * *

 

Emma bites down on the grin when the vein in Regina’s forehead threatens to pop. “Oh come on,” she says, bumping her shoulder and dropping the bags on the ground. “It’s not that bad. At least it’s clean.” As far as Emma is concerned, there’s no bugs crawling around, so who cares if it only takes three steps from the bed to the bathroom? “I’ve stayed in worst places.”

At that Regina swallows and nods tightly. “Very well,” she says, placing her bags on the side of the single bed. She rubs a palm down the length of the cover as if removing imaginary dirt. “But I have no idea how we’re going to fit.” Emma shrugs, not about to point out she has no issue sharing a single bed with the woman.

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” she says cockily, but Regina ignores her, instead walking those three steps to the bathroom.  

Regina rolls her eyes after she’s popped her head in. Her nose crinkles, “it’s clean, just…tiny,” she says, “at least it’s only for a night.”

“You were the one who decided to wait and see what we could find.” Emma perches on the edge of the bed and shrugs, grinning at Regina when she says, “you only have yourself to blame.”

Regina’s jaw clenches and her eyes narrow. “We drove past a perfectly nice hotel a few miles back. You said we should keep going.”

“I said if you weren’t tired we should keep going.” Irrational woman, “if you were tired you should have said so!”

Emma hadn’t been fazed by the situation until Regina flickers her eyes uncertainly towards the bed. She supposes it doesn’t help her with separating out her feelings, either, but surely friends – if that’s what they are, could cuddle platonically? She nods to herself, satisfied.

“Hmm,” Regina arches a brow, not at all impressed.

Emma’s head swivels around the room. It takes thirty seconds to take it in. Regina smiles tightly, still hovering near the door. “Look, if you want me to take the floor-”

Her palm raises, “you don’t have to do that,” she says then finally comes over, sitting on the edge of the bed. “This has just brought up a few things,” mainly the one thing she still hasn’t gotten around to telling Emma about. They’d been texting on occasion and calling each other since she’d appeared at Emma’s apartment, but this is something she hadn’t been able to share.

“Okay,” she says slowly, “want to talk?” but Regina shakes her head. “Okay. I’m going to go take a shower then.” She taps Regina’s thigh then steps into the tiny bathroom. The showers’ spray is weak, but the warm water is enough for Emma to let out a long sigh and tip her head upwards. The water runs over her body and allows her to breathe out a sigh of relief.

Emma’s stomach muscles clench when she thinks of spending the night close to Regina. If a rom-com situation isn’t enough to make this happen naturally, then perhaps it shouldn’t. Emma sighs again, reminding herself it’s an unfortunate situation if Regina is uncomfortable. By the time she’s out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her, she’s decided to take the floor no matter what Regina says.

There’s a small puddle on the floor she has no way of cleaning up. On a grimace she pokes her head around the door. “Err…I made a bit of a mess in here,” she says, “couldn’t help the water going everywhere though.”

Regina’s sat cross-legged on the bed, phone pressed to her ear and looks up to Emma. “It’s okay,” she says softly, “we’ll just put a towel down.” Emma nods, moving around the room to get ready for bed, half an ear out for the conversation she probably should be trying to tune out. “Yes, I’m with Emma,” Regina says to whoever is down the phone. “No, but…no, it’s not like that.”

Something sinks in Emma’s stomach, but with her clothes bundled in her arms she slips back into the bathroom, drops a towel on the floor and leaves the door slightly ajar. She shouldn’t, but the temptation is too great.

“Do you really want to hear this?” Regina asks on a slight chuckle.

Emma squints her eyes to catch the tiny smile on Regina’s lips. She watches as Regina sighs deeply and closes her eyes, palm flat on her stomach. “Maybe there’s something here,” she whispers softly, “but you don’t have to listen to this.”

Emma dries herself and changes, frowning and wishing she could hear whomever was on the other end.

“Are you sure you’re doing okay?” Regina asks. There’s a silence as Emma pulls her shirt over her head. “When you’re ready, you should. You’re beautiful, Mal,” she says with sincerity, and Emma stiffens, throat tightening. “Thank you for calling, I’ll let you know how I do.”

Emma brushes her teeth with slow and sloppy movements, then emerges from the bathroom. “If you need me,” Regina says thickly, and it’s only then Emma notices the gleam in her eyes. She twiddles with the cover beneath her fingers then lets out a long breath. “Thank you for saying that,” she says, smiling wetly and seemingly unaware of Emma’s presence. “I know. I want you to be happy, too.”

Emma cocks her head at that, silently shoving her clothes into her bag. “Have a goodnight,” she says softly before pulling the phone from her ear. It flops onto the bed and Regina closes her eyes, inhaling deeply before letting out a long breath. When her body is still tense Regina grabs the pillow from behind her then launches it across the room, grunting from the exertion.

Emma cocks an eyebrow, surprised by the outburst. “I’m sure that pillow had it coming,” she declares.

Regina chuckles wetly, lifting her shining eyes to Emma then grabs the other pillow and chucks it at her muttering, “idiot.” Emma grabs it, letting it dangle by her thigh when Regina’s head falls into her hands.

She grabs the other pillow, propping them back in place then sits down on the edge of the bed. “Regina?” she says in a calm voice. She lifts her head, and there’s mascara beneath her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Regina ruffles out her hair with both hands, head tipped back. “We broke up,” she whispers, arms flopping to the bed.

Emma raises her brows, “oh,” and a grin appears that she smoothers down. It fades naturally when Regina tips her head into her palm. “Hey,” she says softly, pushing some hair over Regina’s shoulder. “What happened? I thought…”

“She wanted more from me,” she says on a deep sigh, “but I couldn’t…”

Emma bites her lip and resists the urge to hug Regina tightly. “You don’t owe her anything,” she says carefully. “You have every right to end things.”

“I know.” Regina’s eyes lift from where she’s hunched over. “But she deserves better.” Emma nods, aiming for a reassuring smile that feels forced. “I never wanted to hurt her, but I don’t love her the way she deserves.”

Emma takes a deep breath to keep her own scream from crawling up her throat. She’d been falling hard but had never considered what Regina might have been going through because of her own butt hurt feelings. “When did you guys end things?”

“After Semis,” she says simply.

“I didn’t…cause this, did I?” Emma asks, eyes wide and worry gnawing in her gut. She likes Regina, really likes her, but she wouldn’t have wanted to break up a relationship. She sighs in relief when Regina shakes her head.

“I’ve felt this way for a while.” Regina sighs again, sitting up and spreading her palms out. She stares at them before letting them drop to the bed. “I feel terrible, but I can’t be with her,” she whispers, eyes searching out Emma’s as if it’s some huge secret.

“You shouldn’t feel bad about doing what’s right for you,” Emma says. “And if you would have stayed with her longer, then maybe things might have ended a lot worse.”

Regina shrugs, “yeah,” then returns to fiddling with the cover. “She’s doing better though,” she says, and the genuine smile has an ache spread in Emma’s chest. “The first few weeks she didn’t get out of bed. I spent most of that time immersed in practising, so I wouldn’t be.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Emma says to her.

“Oh, Emma.” Regina lifts her head, gently cupping her cheek. The touch makes her buzz all over, and she leans slightly into it. “You have been.” The silly texts, the late-night talks, the pictures of Henry playing with his minion. “And I feel worse because all I wanted was to be here with you.”

Emma sucks in a breath, heart rate increasing rapidly. Regina reaches for her hand, kneading her fingers one by one. She lets her, loving the slight pressure and warmth on her fingers. Those dark eyes don’t look up, and Emma can only imagine what thoughts are swirling around her mind. If Regina feels the same heat swirling low in her belly or breathless whenever they look into each other’s eyes a little too long.

“I’m going to take a quick shower.” Regina pulls her hand away then throws her legs over the bed. “If you want to get in bed you don’t have to wait up.”

“I can still take the floor,” she offers.

Regina chuckles softly, “don’t be ridiculous,” then throws her a genuine smile before going into the bathroom.

Emma takes a breath then flops out over the bed. She still hasn’t moved when Regina emerges sometime later in a matching pyjama shirt and shorts set. Her bare legs have Emma swallowing, only just noticing her own. Perhaps she should have worn something more than a long shirt and underwear? That thought is put on hold when Regina arches a brow.

“I was waiting for you,” she says, sliding under the covers and shuffling to one side. She grabs for her phone and hits the flashlight, so when Regina flicks the light off she won’t end up tripping over something. Plus, they could use the light to figure out how they’re going to sleep.

The bed dips followed by Regina’s legs sliding next to her own, and Emma’s reminded why she choose minimal clothing. Those warm legs press against her when Regina shuffles onto her side facing away from Emma. “You’re making me be the big spoon?” Emma teases, lifting the cover up to their chests then flicking the light off.

Regina chuckles softly, hand pushing under the pillow and legs curling up slightly. “I’m not going to say no,” she mumbles.

Emma bounces down onto her side, hesitating for a beat before slipping her knees into the back of Regina’s. She rests her head down on the pillow then snakes her arm around Regina’s waist only hoping she is doing this right. Her flat palm rest on her stomach, just below where her braline would be if she had a bra on. Which she doesn’t, and neither does Emma, because who sleeps in a bra? Not that _that_ is the main issue here. Or perhaps it is, because she shuffles a little closer, tugs on Regina, and her front very firmly presses against Regina’s back.

“Is this okay?” she asks, heart in her throat.

Regina hums, other hand coming up to cover Emma’s. “Tighter,” she commands, lightly gripping Emma’s wrist then directs it until Emma’s arm is wrapped firmly around her waist. Emma squeezes her eyes, forehead lowering to burrow into Regina’s neck and she wants to whimper when Regina moves a few inches backwards.

Her foot slips between Regina’s legs, and they tangle together. They couldn’t get any closer if they tried. Still, Emma tightens her arm asking, “is this better?” and receives a faint hum and contented sigh. Emma’s toes curl, and she dares press her lips to Regina’s bare shoulder. “Goodnight,” she says, and presses her cheek against Regina’s back.

“Goodnight, darling,” she mutters, breathing already steadying out.  

 

* * *

 

When they return to the car the following morning Regina puts her phone in and instantly plays one of David’s Guetta’s albums ‘Listen.’ “You had Dangerous in your set at sectionals right?” Regina asks.

“Yeah,” she says with a higher pitched voice than usual, “you remember that?” she asks as they pull back onto the freeway. Emma bobs in her seat to the catchy beats, fingers tapping against her thigh.

“Of course. I remember everything about you,” she says conversationally, but to Emma it hits every spot of a life where she’d been all but invisible. Some foster parents had trouble remembering her name.  

“I just…thought you still hated me then.”

Even if Regina hadn’t hated her, they’d only spoken briefly, and she isn’t sure why Regina would have bothered to remember anything about her. She doesn’t usually stand out to anyone.

“First of all,” Regina says, managing to widen her eyes in a scolding manner without even looking Emma’s way, “you damaged my car. I had every right to be pissed at you, and I know what I said, but combine being pissed with the stress of the competition and I’d had a fight with Mal that morning over something stupid and…” she trails off, and no part of Emma is ready to hear more about that. Her hands slide down the side of the wheel then back up before she eventually says, “I wasn’t in a very good place when we met, but I never hated you.”

Emma nods, and mutters out an, “okay.” Regina seems certain and it eased her uncertainties. Some of them at least. “Call me selfish but knowing you guys were fighting before you met me makes me feel a million times better.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Emma.” Hearing it makes her feel better, too. “She wanted to be there, but I told her it wasn’t necessary. When she showed up I wasn’t overly receptive. I was already in a terrible mood when I saw you break my mirror. I still don’t know how in the world you managed that,” she says disbelievingly. “You’re the clumsiest woman I’ve ever come across.”

“Yup, that’s me.” Emma bites her lip and falls back into the leather seat, before finding the courage to ask, “you didn’t want Mal to be there?” because if she had a girlfriend she would want them to be there for her. She’d only known Regina briefly before the entries competition, and she’d wanted her to be in the room.

Regina considers it for a moment. “I was growing tired of forcing feelings that weren’t there,” she says, “I wanted some space to focus on the competition, and I told her that, but she thought that it might help us if she was there for me.”

“Obviously not,” Emma mutters. “Are you two still friends?” she asks, picking at the side of her fingernails.

Regina shrugs, “not exactly.” She takes a deep breath. “A four year relationship is difficult to end on an instant, and I couldn’t break up with her then leave her to pick up the pieces on her own.”

Emma squishes her face and regards the thought rolling around her mind. She evaluates it against her feelings, then disregards them completely. “Won’t that make things worse in the long run?”

“Maybe. But she needed me, at first. Now…we’re slowly losing contact. I’ll have to set some limits eventually.” Regina’s fingers tighten around the wheel then relax again. “I should have ended things a long time ago, but after everything she did for me…”

“Yeah,” Emma says, knowing asking, “what changed?” was a dumb idea the moment the words are out. Regina’s eyes flicker her way. She clears her throat and shuffles a little on the seat then focuses back on the road.

“I accepted that I wanted more,” she says quietly.

Emma doesn’t ask her any further questions.

 

* * *

 

The windows are back down, system up, and they are tired, but the navigation system says there’s only ten minutes left of the journey. Emma sighs at the female voice instructing them to turn left and takes a glance at Regina. She keeps her eyes focused on the road, back straight, but her lips are constantly being pushed back together as if to smoother a grin. “We have to make a detour,” she mutters, turning down the music and turning into the airport.

Emma frowns, because when did Regina switch from the hotel to the airport on the navigation system without her knowing it? “We flying somewhere?” she asks on a chuckle, glancing around the parking lot. Suitcases roll over the gravel as families excitedly make their way through the sliding doors. Taxis pull up at side of the curve, as other people reluctantly shove their cases into the trunks of their cars. “I’ve never been out of the country,” she says when Regina hadn’t answered her past a shrug.

They find a spot after Regina had circled the parking lot twice, and she lets out a long breath when the engine is switched off. “Maybe we could,” she says, “where would you go if you could?”

“Now?” Emma asks, following Regina’s lead as she gets out of the car. Her legs threaten to buckle when she puts weight on them, and by the way Regina’s arms are stretched above her head, her body is aching too. “If this is surprise vacation then your timing sucks.”

Regina purses her lips and squints her eyes over the top of the car. “This was my plan all along,” she teases, pushing her handbag on her shoulder then hits the switch on her key so the car beeps and lights flash. “I’m shoving your sexy ass on a plane so you can’t beat me tomorrow.”

“Ha-ha,” Emma says, rubbing the back of her neck when Regina walks around the car to meet her. She bites her lip and feels her heart thudding hard against her ribcage. Regina thinks she’s _sexy?_ She’s still contemplating it when they walk towards the entrance and Regina’s fingers brush against her own.

Emma sucks in a breath and keeps her arm swinging by her side. “What are we actually doing here?” she asks, because there’s no way she’s really about to put her on a plane to nowhere. “I’ve always wanted to go to Europe.”

“I’ll see what flights are available.” Her left eye sort of closes, followed quickly by her right before they ping open. Emma bites her lip, because it was _so_ close. She wonders if Regina realizes she can’t wink to save her life.

“Come on,” Regina says to her, tipping her head towards the doors. She guides her into the airport then goes to the arrivals and departure boards. “Need to find you a flight,” she mutters, and Emma briefly wonders if she’s serious. Or if she’d taken something that Emma didn’t know about. Then she grabs Emma’s hand and tugs until they’re walking towards the busy escalators.

“Regina?” she asks, but rather than replying Regina gives her hand a squeeze with this soft smile that melts her insides. She shrugs with one shoulder then swivels her gaze towards the woman trying to barge past people on the escalators. Emma gasps a moment later, hand slipping from Regina’s to move closer. She dodges people and yells, “Ruby!” before the woman collides with her.

They hug and giggle, swaying a little. “What’s up, Swan?” she asks, chin on her shoulder and squeezes her arms. Emma’s eyes close, a little smile on her lips as she tightens her grip.

When she opens her eyes, still clinging onto her friend, she catches Regina looking at them with gentleness. She wants to reach out to her, to clasp her hand and kiss it softly, but pushes those ideas down by closing her eyes when Ruby’s arms give her another squeeze. “Better now you’re here,” she says, eventually untangling them. “Wait. What are you doing here?”

“Rude-” she bumps their hips, “a certain someone offered to pick me up on route.”

Emma whips her head around. “You did?” and when Regina nods diplomatically with her hands clasped in front of her middle, she shakes her head and makes her way over. So, she likes hugs, who doesn’t? And they had spent the previous night wrapped around each other, so when she wraps her arms around Regina’s neck she melts into her.

“I thought it would be a nice surprise,” she whispers, hands on her back holding her closer. “Mary Margaret gave me her number.” Regina breathes her in, lightly nuzzles her neck then just as Emma thinks she’s letting go, she tightens her grip.

Emma swallows, eyes closed and lowers her cheek to Regina’s shoulder. “It is,” she says simply.

Ruby laughs from beside them, “it’s not the freaking apocalypse.”

All Emma does in response is let her cheeks push up to the point they start to ache. “Yeah,” she says dreamily, the busy airport fading out from around them. The most important part is Regina’s soft body that’s pressed to her own in the tightest hug she’s ever gotten. On a slight groan she lifts her head as Regina pulls her back, eyes slowly opening. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Her fingers tenderly push the hair from Emma’s face before she leans forwards until her nose rests at the top of her head. After a deep breath Regina presses her lips to Emma’s temple. It’s so sweet that Emma’s eyes close then open in a daze when Regina pulls back.

“We need to get going,” she says to Emma, eyes startling and creates distance between them. Emma forgets why they were in the airport in the first place. Until Regina offers to get Ruby’s bag and she comes into view with her eyebrows crawling into her hairline.

“That was the gayest shit I’ve ever seen,” she mutters to herself, ignoring Regina’s mean stare then links her arms with Emma’s happily ignoring the older brunette. “I’m calling shot gun to stop that from happening in the car.”

“No!” Emma pouts as they walk towards the exit, only pouting harder at Regina’s laugh. “Fine. I’ll be demoted to the backseat.” Not that she particularly cares when her friend is by her side, and Regina just hugged her like _that._

Ruby winks, and they catch up to Regina. When they’re stood beside the car Ruby turns to them and asks, “ready for finals?” Emma visibly shudders, and Regina’s hand slips on the handle of the car.


	7. Chapter 7

_Finals_

Emma walks from one end of the hotel room and then back over to the door. It’s seven steps each way and she counts them religiously. Her mind runs through the set she’s playing tomorrow night, ignoring the one she might play after that. Should she think about it? Or would thinking about a set she might not get to perform jinx her?

Regina breathes in through her nose then exhales slowly as if trying for patience. “Emma,” she says sternly. Her fists clench around the covers instead of around that infuriating woman’s neck. “We’re going out!” she snaps, tone leaving no room for argument, but still, Emma whips her head around and snaps –

 _“What?”_ The pacing is put on hold long enough for her to glare. “ _You_ can. I’m staying here.” They’d talked about this, and how it is safer to stay within the confines of the hotel room to prevent an unexpected disaster from striking. Emma begins to pace again.

Regina grits her teeth, stands then grabs her bag. Next, she shoves Emma’s coat at her chest. Emma jerks backwards and wrap her arms around it. “Your pacing is enough to drive anyone insane,” she says, “you’re driving me insane! And it’s not helping you.”

“It is helping me. And if I’m driving you so insane then leave me behind.” She chucks the red leather jacket across the room. After it lands in a heap she crouches beside it, fingers curling into the leather to lift it and snuggle it to her chest. That jacket had seen her through many bad years, she won’t let a moody woman come between them.

“You’re going to end up walking your way through the damn floor!”

Emma stands with the jacket clenched in her fists. “What does that even mean?” she asks, because what is her problem? If she wants to pace to control her nerves, then she gets to pace.

Regina snatches Emma’s phone, shoves it in the pocket of her jeans then tugs on Emma’s arm. “It means you’re going to wear the floorboards out and give the person underneath us a fucking heart attack when you fall into their room.”

“You’re being ridiculous,” she defends, stomping her feet when Regina manages to drag her from the room.

“No,” she says, “I’m saving you from yourself.”

“Well-” she angrily shoves her arms into her jacket before storming off in a random direction muttering, “I never asked to be saved.” When she has made it twenty steps, and just to piss Regina off that little bit more, she turns on her heel and walks in the other direction.

“For the love of…” she pinches her nose, waits until Emma paces back towards her and links their arms. “We’re leaving-” and she drags Emma along the corridor whether she wants to follow or not. 

She fake huffs, but knows she has lost the battle, so she lets Regina drag her out of the hotel. She twitches to pace as they stand outside under the darkening sky. Regina waves down a taxi. “Come on,” she says, opening the door to the backseat of the car. “I have the perfect place in mind.”

During the cab ride Emma bounces her knee that much Regina places her hand on her thigh. “Calm down,” she says, and only moves her hand when Emma nods and slumps into the chair.

“How are you so calm?” she asks.

It isn’t normal; perhaps Regina is a witch capable of controlling her nerves the night before finals. It’s the only plausible explanation, because this is the final step between them living out ordinary lives and living out their dreams. Well, one of them might make it, at least.

Regina doesn’t answer until they’re out of the cab and she’s directing Emma down a busy street. “Practice,” she says simply, not giving any more information. She doesn’t comment on it, and they walk in silence until a faint sound of splashing water filters through the air.

They walk towards crowds of people, and behind those crowds water that appears red shoots up into the air then flows down the fountain. There’s three tiers like in a cake, and water streams down as multicoloured lights flicker between the columns. “It’s beautiful,” Emma whispers, “I’ve always wanted to visit this.” The Buckingham fountain had been on her bucket list for years.

The giant pool of water holds stone animals that have water shooting from their mouths, along with water shooting up and onto the tiers. It runs back down and hits the water in a constant stream. The soothing water causes Emma to take a calming breath.

“Would you like to walk the perimeter?” Regina asks.

They walk in silence to the constant sound of water splashing against water. Emma can’t deny that the sound is enough to settle her nerves. She shoves her hands into her jacket pockets and feels a lump grow in her throat for every step they take. It had been easier to focus on the competition rather than her feelings regarding Regina. The night before remains at the back of her mind, crawling to the front of it whenever she lets her guard slip.

To gauge information, she lightly asks, “do I get to be the little spoon tonight?” and gently elbows her side.

Regina chuckles uncertainty, “if you would like.”

They stop at the other side of the fountain, closest to the lake and turn to look at the buildings. The lights in the square windows illuminate the backdrop, and Emma sighs, “this is nice,” and tries to focus on the soothing water to combat her nerves. “I can’t believe we made it this far.”

“How does it feel to be in the top ten?” she asks, and there’s a sparkle in her eyes when she turns them on Emma.

“I don’t think it’s sunk in.” _Top ten._ The final ten contestants fight for their place in round two. Only four make it, and they are the ones who are likely to _make it._ Although first prize comes with a guarantee of money and a job, it’s well known that most of the final four end up with a deal. “Did you not get offered anything after coming third?” she asks suddenly.

“I…turned it down,” she says, and Emma’s mouth parts slightly as understanding dawns. Regina slips her hands into her coat pocket and tips her head backwards. “I didn’t know if I was ready to compete this year,” she says then turns her eyes to Emma. “But I’m glad I did.”

Emma offers a small smile. “Because of your father?” she asks her.

“Mainly,” she says. “I came to New York to pursue a dream and ended up missing the last few years of my father’s life. I didn’t even touch a turntable for over a year after his death.” Murmurs from people surrounding them and the water balance out the silence between them.

Eventually, Emma says, “you never did tell me how you got into DJing?”

Regina visibly swallows and nods her head. “I discovered a programme on my computer when I was a freshman in high school. I used to claim that I was studying, but instead I taught myself how to mix music. It was mine, and I used to spend hours with music. Longer when things with my mother became difficult.”

They walk a little then, slow steps around the fountain. “I went to an in-state college, my mother chose all of my classes, and extracurricular. But I joined this DJ society without her knowledge. It was fun,” she says, eyes lighting up. “It wasn’t until I competed in this collage challenge and did well that she found out.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t go very well?” Emma asks, her chest aching for Regina’s childhood and subsequent years she had all but lost.

“She was furious.” Regina chuckles tightly, movements slowing. “She threatened to pull my college funding, to cut me off completely if I didn’t stop attending the society. When I didn’t she moved my things into Leo’s house and stopped paying for my campus accommodation.”

“Leo?”

“The man my mother deemed appropriate for me to date,” she says shakily.

“But I thought you said when you were in high school…” Emma trails off when they come to a stop. Regina slowly lifts her head, eyes hardened and red rimmed. “He was the same person?” she asks on a whisper. Regina nods once. Emma doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t want to think about this in real terms. “How old was he?”

“Late thirties,” is all she says, eyes concentrating on something over Emma’s shoulder. “I ended up spilling my guts to a professor, and she helped me apply for a music scholarship and with a transfer application. I escaped with a few personal possessions and some clothes but left everything behind. I didn’t tell my mother until I was in New York. Part of the condition of the scholarship was that I had to earn credits within music, so I continued DJing.”

Emma lightly places a hand on Regina’s arm, squeezing softly. She strokes the back of her knuckles against Regina’s cheek and offers a weak, and slightly watery, smile. “I’m so sorry.”

Regina sighs deeply and tips her head towards the touch. “If that hadn’t happened, there’s every chance I wouldn’t be here with you right now,” she says, eyes lighting up brighter than any star in the sky.

 

* * *

 

By the time they return to the hotel room the nerves have subsided. After the heavy talk they had switched to lighter topics and continue to mutter away as they shower and change for bed. It’s a little before ten pm when Emma slides into the sheets, grateful there will be no early morning call. They registered on arrival, but as there are only ten contestants, they don’t compete until the early evening. The rehearsal space opens at eight am and stays open all day, but they’ve both agreed that spending hours in there won’t help.

Emma sighs when there’s a dip in the bed, followed by Regina slipping beneath the cover. “Are you going to be able to sleep?” she asks, reaching up to flick the light off.

Emma rolls her head to the side. “Probably not,” she says. “I’ll be quiet though, and I’ve got my headphones at the ready if I need them.”

Regina curls up on her side, reaching a hand on to rest it on Emma’s hip. The thumb brushes against her shirt before Regina brushes her palm over her stomach then back to her hip. Emma closes her eyes, legs tightening, and stomach muscles contracting. “Would you like me to cuddle you?” Regina offers. “I did promise,” she says, lightly chuckling.

“Erm…” Emma swallows, then says, “yeah,” thickly. She rolls over, facing away from Regina, very aware of Regina’s body saddling closer until her front presses to Emma’s back. Her breathing shallows when an arm wraps around her waist and _holds._ Her body is jolted an inch backwards. She breathes out shakily as she curls her legs up, and tucks her elbows into her chest, both hands slipping beneath her pillow.

Regina presses her legs against her own, one of them slipping between hers. “Relax,” Regina says softly, lowering her cheek until it rests against Emma’s. How is she supposed to relax with Regina wrapped around her like this? She wants to whimper, not relax.

“No one’s ever…” she trails off, squeezing her eyes shut as Regina wiggles and tightens her hold.

“You’re tense,” Regina say softly, “we don’t have to-”

“Don’t let go,” she mutters, willing her muscles to release their tension. Her body moulds into Regina’s for each inch she lets go, a wave of butterflies hitting her stomach. “I’m not used to it, but it’s nice.”

Regina’s head pops up then lips press against her neck. “Try to get some sleep,” she whispers, “I’m here if you need anything.”

Emma’s breathless, but manages to nod when Regina lowers her head back down. The forearm against her stomach tightens still, pressing in gently and making her feel held. Her eyes close, and her legs relax around Regina’s, body losing its tension as she slips into unconsciousness.

 

* * *

 

Regina is on first.

Emma watches her with wide eyes and a clenched stomach. The commentator yells, “DJ Regal!” into the microphone and the crowd goes insane. There’s clapping, yelling, hollering, and then it quietens when the spot light moves to Regina.

Her chest rises then falls, headphones over her head and an easy, natural smile grows on her lips as she starts her set. Regina hadn’t told her anything about her song choices no matter how much Emma had asked on the way, so she’s surprised when a song by S-club 7 begins to play within the first minute. 

 

_Everybody's got something_

_They had to leave behind_

_One regret from yesterday_

_That just seems to grow with time_

_There's no use looking back, or wondering_

_How it could be now or might've been_

_All this I know_

_But still I can't find ways to let you go._

The way Regina moves elegantly mesmerizes Emma to the point the crowd fades and her entire focus is on the woman altering sound to her whim. Her posture is open, calm, and although there are nerves running beneath her skin that only Emma had known about, there’s an obvious love for what she is doing.

Regina is supposed to be up there. If anyone has a calling in life, then it’s Regina and music.

The set shifts with beats, tempo, volume and genre, until a familiar song intertwines effortlessly.

 

_Underneath the starlight, starlight_

_There's a magical feeling so right_

_It'll steal your heart tonight_

_You can try to resist_

_Try to hide from my kiss_

_But you know, but you know that you_

_Can't fight the moonlight_

 

_Deep in the dark_

_You'll surrender your heart_

_But you know, but you know that you_

_Can't fight the moonlight, no_

_You can't fight it_

_It's gonna get to your heart._

 

The set picks up in pace, and Regina adds some original mixes and throws out lyrics from David Guetta’s ‘Flames.’ _In flames_ repeats in the background, followed by _figure it out, figure it out, but don’t stop moving._

 

It’s a crowd pleaser, for so many people are on their feet, swaying their hips and enjoying every moment. Emma joins them, any nerves forgotten when she watches the woman transform. She owns the stage and is setting a high standard. The set ends on a slow note: Fast Car by Tracey Chapman.

 

_Anyplace is better_

_Starting from zero got nothing to lose_

_Maybe we'll make something_

_But me myself I got nothing to prove._

The set fades out with the lyrics and _finally see what it means to be living_ repeating, softer, and softer, until it fades out completely. There’s a moment of silence, then the room erupts.

 

* * *

 

Emma is on last.

The tightens in her chest only grows stiffer when Regina tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Good luck,” she whispers, “I believe in you.”

Emma isn’t responding on the outside, because she’s going through every emotion on the inside and it’s rendered her motionless. Something squeezes her hand in encouragement, and she hopes it’s Regina because when she finally turns her head no one is beside her. The breath she releases is shaky, and that’s nothing compared to her fingers. They tremble by her sides.

“I want everyone on their feet,” the commentator says, and the crowd stands and creates a rumble. It drums in her ears and through her body until the energy has a slither of excitement crawling through her stiff limbs.

She doesn’t know where Regina went, but somewhere is a vague awareness that she had to leave whilst Emma competes. She’ll be in the crowd, about to listen to the set Emma had slowly put together when she’d been heart broken and longing. Her mind hardly registers the cheering, when the commentator makes a low rumbling sound into the microphone. “DJ Swan!” he yells, and the crowd cheers loudly enough to jolt her into action.

This is it, one more step and she fights for first place. The moment she had entered she had never realised making it this far was anything other than a far away dream, but as she steps onto the stage, her heart slows and a calmness washes over her. Regina believes in her, every judge so far does too, and she had made it into the top ten within the country.

After flashing the commentator a smile, he exits the stage as she walks over to the mix table. There’s so much that could go wrong, but she pushes those thoughts away and takes a deep breath. There’s no guidelines for this set, other than it reaching twenty minutes. It’s enough time to show off an array of talent, different genres and mixes, and she hopes her choices are good enough.

An original mix begins, a slow steady dance sound that she mixes with Stacie Orrico’s (there’s got to be) more to life. It begins quietly, and beneath the two sounds, flashes of Florence and the Machine’s ‘Dogs days are over’ intertwine. Three songs at once is a risk, but one she’s taking because she had worked too hard to get here and knows she has what it takes to pull it off. Two of those songs fade out, leaving the other to flow into the chorus:

 

_There's gotta be more to life_

_Than chasing down every temporary high to satisfy me_

_'Cause the more that I'm Tripping out thinking there must be more to life_

_Well it's life, but I'm sure, there's gotta be more_

_Than wanting more._

 

She breathes in then flips the track, the lyrics, _happiness hit her like a train on the track_ overpowering the other song until it fades out completely. _And I never wanted anything from you. Except everything you had. And what was left after that too, oh._

Emma shivers when there’s a murmur through the crowd, and slides her hand over the table, scratching then experimenting with her own sound. Lyrics shoot out within her original techno mix, then it moves onto a dance beat that has multiple figures moving in the arena. Ten thousand. It holds ten thousand people, and up until that moment she had blocked that knowledge out. Part of her wants to run away, but there’s a cheer and more dancing, so she blows out a breath and decreases the tempo.

The song she had chosen is from a band she had never listened to until she’d heard a song in Regina’s set. ‘12 through 15’ by Mayday Parade begins at a low volume beneath her original mix, a song that had resonated through her and had her longing for a certain brunette.

Wanting to focus on the next set of lyrics, she turns the volume down on one track then increases it on this:

 

_And we're all alone now_

_With nothing to stand in our way_

_Don't swear that it's over_

_If love is our secret_

_I know you won't keep it._

A shudder runs through Emma’s body as she switches the tracks again, pulling away from original sounds to add piano chords in a soothing melody. It’s different, but she hopes that it will make her stand out in a good way. The next song she intertwines is by Hilary Duff, ‘Fly.’

 

_Can you hear it calling?_

_Can you feel it in your soul?_

_Can you trust this longing_

_And take control?_

A slow clap starts at one side of the room and spreads across to the other. _It worked,_ and Emma smiles wildly for the rest of the set. Towards the last few minutes she increases the tempo and sound, dancing along with the crowd. Another song by Hilary Duff ‘shine’ intertwines. She thinks of Regina.

 

_Shine, come on and let it shine_

_L_ _ight me up, make me feel alive_

_You've got what it takes (shine on me today)_

_Shine, and only you know how_

_To lift my spirit off the ground_

_And chase those clouds away_

_Shine on me today._

The music fades. The crowd jumps to their feet and cheers loudly. Emma is motionless and smiles when the spot light remains on her. Her heart beats erratically, but she stands there for a few moments longer to take in the support, the love, and overwhelming feeling of taking another step closer to fulfilling her dreams.

 

* * *

 

They announce backwards from ten, offering a shake of the hand along with a small plaque for each contestant who made it this far. The tension grows in Emma’s chest when she looks out at the crowd and sees them rooted, eyes on the stage. Regina tries to give her a reassuring smile, but there’s worry lines on her forehead. Emma bows her head and takes deep breaths, hoping to get enough oxygen so she doesn’t pass out.

The lights dim, and a spotlight moves to the stage and the ten contestants huddled together. Emma’s heart beats erratically. She shuffles, sweat forming on her palms and tries to tell herself no matter what happens she’s done incredible to make it this far. The commentator comes out, all smiles and gets the crowd cheering.

“Alright, alright,” he says, “clearly we’re ready to announce our top four.” He presses his finger to the ear piece and lifts his palm to quieten the crowd. “But first…and I want to hear a huge cheer at our finalist landing in tenth…” Emma sighs when her name isn’t called, flickering a glance to Regina as the contents walks sullenly from the stage. He smiles, nods, and waves, but she knows inside he must be shattering.

Nine contestants left…eight…seven…six, and still Emma and Regina are standing on the stage. With only one more left who will leave her spirits raise. She grabs Regina’s hand, holding it tightly. “And our contestant coming in fifth,” he says, and there’s even a small smile tugging on Emma’s lips.

One more and she’s through. “DJ Swan!” he bellows, and her world comes crashing down.

 

* * *

 

Ruby finds her first, sulking in a far-away corner with her knees tucked into her chest. “At least you’re not hyperventilating in a toilet cubical,” she says, slipping down the wall to sit beside her. “There’s a dude who won’t stop crying. A bunch of guys keep going into the men’s room to try and console him. It’s sort of sweet.”

Emma manages to muster up the strength to shrug, arms wrapped around her knees and staring blankly ahead. Her mind keeps replaying her performance in a loop, finding every little mistake she had made. Had she messed up the tempo in the second song? Had the ending fit with the overall tune? Why had she taken so many chances? She should have played it safe. But it’s too late now, she’s failed. Failed at the competition, failed at being a mom, and failed at everything she’d ever done. She ruins everything she ever touches. It had been a ridiculous fantasy from the start.

“Want to get blind drunk tonight?” she asks, and for a moment the corner of Emma’s lip twitches. Then she returns to a small shrug and non-committal hum. “Just so you know, I’m proud of you. I thought your set was amazing.”

The words hardly register, a blip filtering through her misery induced brain. Scenarios twist and revolt, rewrite until she’s the villain of every story. Tomorrow it might hurt a little less, and with Henry by her side she might believe she isn’t a screw up whom he doesn’t deserve, but right now, every abandoned hope and dream comes crashing into her gut. As they reach their peak a brunette woman comes racing towards her. “Emma,” she says, concern lacing her voice. “Emma. I’ve been looking all over.”

“Go away,” she mutters, not in the mood to deal with this too.

“Okay, Swan,” Ruby says. “Let’s not fall down this rabbit hole.”

The words hardly register, but she sighs and ignores the jealousy within her gut. Regina had worked as hard as she had worked, rightfully earning her place. Except she aches over every inch of her body, and it bundles up, settling firmly on her chest when Regina crouches down. Her palms press against her raised knees, momentarily pulling Emma from her thoughts. “You did incredibly out there,” she says softly. “I’m so proud of you.”

Their eyes meet, and Emma’s are vacant whilst Regina’s are pained. She smiles sadly, eyebrows knitting together. “Everything will work out,” she says in a gentle tone. “Have some faith.”

Emma’s eyes flicker down, followed by a shrug. “I’m happy for you,” she mumbles. Somewhere deep down where she’s not numb. “Go out there and win, then you can forget about me completely.”

“Emma…” she sighs, hands squeezing her knees. “Will you watch my set?” Regina asks her.

“You bet she will,” Ruby says, nudging her shoulder. “I’ll drag her in if I have to.”

Emma meets Regina’s gaze and gives her the tiniest of nods. If she wasn’t in such a foul mood she knows she wouldn’t want to miss out, and she should support her…her friend? She doesn’t know what they are. Her emotions are like a constant tornado that won’t give her a break. “You don’t need me,” she mutters, hanging her head.

“Emma, _please,”_ she says, and the desperation is enough for Emma to lift her head and push through the daze. “I _need_ you.” Their eyes meet, and this nod is solid. Words won’t form, but when their eyes hold, they aren’t necessary. Regina smiles with her eyes, before her entire body tips over so she can press her lips to Emma’s forehead. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, kisses her one more time then sits back on her heels. “I have to get back in there. Are you going to be okay?” 

“She’ll get there,” Ruby says before Emma has a chance. They exchange a glance before Regina stands and leaves them. Before she can protest Ruby yanks her to her feet and drags her into the arena.

 

* * *

 

She’s numb. The loss is the only thing she can think about, but still, the moment Regina walks onto the stage her heart flutters, and she smiles sadly and concentrates only on her.

The set begins with a soft melody. Emma’s head snaps up when the opening chords of ‘To Build a Home’ begins. _She remembered it?_ Their faux-date had been months ago. Emma sits up straighter, a lump growing in her throat.

The song is tender and plays over her body like someone running their fingertips along her skin. Goose bumps run along her arms as the lyrics flow through every crack of her heart.

 

_There is a house built out of stone_

_Wooden floors, walls and window sills_

_Tables and chairs worn by all of the dust_

_This is a place where I don't feel alone_

_This is a place where I feel at home._

Emma swallows thickly, throat tightening with every lyric. The drumming sound weaves into the song, and it aligns with the beating in her chest. The track comes to a stop, before the gentle lyrics are the only sound in the arena:

 

_'Cause, I built a home_

_For you_

_For me._

The song fades, and a faster melody begins. Regina’s head lifts, and her eyes search out the audience. The smile reassures something deep within Emma when she feels herself spiralling into places of deep longing. Emma’s eyes fix on the woman who creates beauty. Then the set shifts, and an echo of a track intertwines with a deep male voice:

 

_But I hope that you don't mind._

_That I wish you were mine. oh._

_Yeah, I wish you were mine._

The guitar that laces the track runs through her veins, and makes her pulsate with want. There’s original sounds being mixed within the song choices, simple, yet the emotion spiralling from the stage has the crowd on the edges of their seat. Everyone else had opted for something upbeat, something challenging, but Regina has chosen something that runs through Emma’s soul. She feels like Regina is trying to tell her something. Is this all for _her_?

 

_But what would I do with you._

_Is it the chase I love?_

_I've only ideas of you._

_And no concept of us._

_No we wouldn't last._

_And even though I give up, I still wish you were mine._

_Oh, oh._

Emma shivers, stomach clenching, and wishes too. Then the song fades, and a slightly more upbeat song plays. ‘I’ll be there’ by Jess Glynn, and a little smirk pushes on the corner of Emma’s lips.

 

_Oh, oh, I'll be there_

_When you need a little love, I got a little love to share_

_Yeah, I'm gonna, I'm gonna, I'm gonna come through_

_You'll never be alone, I'll be there for you._

It’s cleverly mixed with her original songs, and has multiple people dancing, grabbing onto their partners, but then she slows the song and eventually adds in another at a slower tempo. There’s deep chords that reminisce an orchestra, omitting deep routed emotion. It’s Lea Michele, Emma recognises, biting her lip to prevent herself from falling into despair and longing. _Could it be?_

 

_Let's set fire to the lonely night_

_You're beautiful when you look at me_

_Let's give love another life._

Her knee bounces in tiny movements, and tension builds in her chest. Emma’s eyes fight to close, but they remain on Regina. The sound had been soft, but she increases the volume of those chords before the voice sings:

 

_Cause you'll be safe in these arms of mine_

_Just call my name on the edge of the night_

_And I'll run to you, I'll run to you._

 

Those in the crowd grab onto their partners, swaying and drop their heads to shoulders. Emma leans forwards, tingling in her hands with a need to find safety in Regina’s arms. Thinking about how _safe_ she had felt in her embrace. Her eyes are blurry when Regina pulls the microphone to her lips. The song switches to a melody that’s catchy, and has a wet laugh emitting from Emma’s throat.

Regina uses her voice, the deep sound spreading out into the arena and straight to Emma.

 

_I say_

_You're beautiful right where you are_

_You're perfect with all of your scars_

_And maybe now it’s not our time_

_But I feel that I belong in your arms_

_Darling you're everything to me._

Tears build in the back of her throat when Regina stands away from the microphone, adjusting the song one final time, lowering the tempo, the volume, everything, until the final lyrics play out like a whisper…

 

_For Emma, forever ago._

If Emma could feel anything other than the pounding of her heart, then she would join the crowd on their feet. She blinks slowly, once…twice, and suddenly a roar filters through. She jumps up. Her eyes blur when she looks up to the stage. Regina’s _gone._ Filtered somewhere into the crowd, and the only thought that buzzes through Emma’s mind is that she _needs_ to find her.

She trips over feet with a muttered _sorry_ and pushes out of the row of seats. There’s no sight of Regina when she reaches the aisle. Tension in her throat makes it hard to breathe, but she swallows it down and blinks back the gleam in her eyes. The cheering echoes around her mind, but so do those final lyrics. _To Emma…_  

Her chest heaves as she spins on the spot, stumbling around aimlessly. Her eyes squint at the roaming spotlights, and it’s as if everything is trying to get in her way. At a loss, she stumbles to the back of the arena, wraps both arms around her stomach and slumps against the wall.

By this point the cheering had subsided, and all that remains is a residual murmur. Regina still hasn’t appeared, and for a moment she wonders if she had imagined the set. If the lyrics were a love letter, not to her, but for Regina to win. Those people in the crowd who had kissed their partners, swayed in their arms, and looked to them with love surely had felt it, too.

She looks up to the empty stage, sloppily wiping at her cheeks then flops her arms back down. Perhaps she had been saying goodbye, or perhaps it had meant nothing at all. It’s easier for her to convince herself of that after a lifetime of rejection and of never being deemed good enough. Not to the man who had promised her forever only to bail before Emma had the chance to tell him about her news. Not to the social worker who left her sitting outside on a porch when she had been eleven; it had rained down, until her possessions had been soaked through, and it had shifted to night, then day, and finally he had showed up, and didn’t offer so much as an apology. Not to her parents who had left a new born on the side of the road – one who had grown up alone without any experience of what it felt like to be loved.

Then someone stands in front of her, and when Emma lifts her wet eyes she lets go of it all. “Regina,” she says, sounding desperate and pleading. Regina’s eyes shine too, and her smile is watery, but so beautiful. Regina moves closer, so close that Emma notices the tiny scar on her upper lip, one that makes her knees weaken and something stir low in her stomach. She wants to run her tongue over it, to experience everything she’d missed out on.

When Regina moves closer, Emma pushes from the wall and falls into her. Arms circle her waist tightly and lips catch her own effortlessly. She melts as tan arms tighten around her until her shirt is scrunching up at the bottom. Her arms snake around Regina’s neck, biceps straining with the force of her grip. It’s as if they can’t get close enough, not even when their bodies mould and their lips slide open and closed.

It’s _perfection,_ being in Regina’s arms feels like home, and kissing her feels like her life is changing with every movement, and when Regina moans – moans so loud it vibrates through her body and has her toes curl, she slips a tongue into her mouth to pull them closer, to hear it again. Regina’s lips part into a tiny smile, and she curls her tongue around Emma’s, and runs her fingers firmly through blonde hair, griping tightly and holding her there. 

Emma’s body awakens with _desire_ and _devotion._ She’d been attracted to Regina, attracted to other women, and had occasionally looked at a woman and wondered, but feeling the warmth spread to her belly, and lower, and _lower_ causes her to moan, and chuckle, and her head is light when their lips finally part with a slight squelch.

Regina chuckles wetly, the sound so pleasant to Emma’s ears. “Hi,” she whispers, leaning into the palm that comes to rest on her cheek. “I loved your set,” she says dreamily, eyes closing and takes a deep breath. And Regina, who had just performed the most amazing love letter in a national stage for her, she just chuckles again, light and free and then their lips press back together. Regina sloppily kisses then, her other arm wrapping around Emma’s waist.

Emotion pours through their kiss, and within the way their bodies mould and move against each other. Hands slide over every curve, squeezing lovingly, and map every inch as they continue to find everything they’d been searching for.

Regina slows the kiss to press her forehead to Emma’s then tucks some hair behind her ear. Eyes remaining closed, Emma pushes her head firmer against Regina’s until she tips her head to press a tender kiss to her lips. They pull away slightly, breathing deep and heavy. Regina’s hands rub up and down her sides soothingly. Emma sighs, content.

It’s only when the commentator announces, “we’re ready to reveal our winner!” that they startle and pull back. “Will our final four contestants return to the stage?” he asks, but even that isn’t enough to pull them apart. Regina cups the back of Emma’s neck then squishes their lips together one more time.

Then she takes a step back and without letting go of Emma’s hands she looks at her intensely as if memorizing her and then winks, actually _winks,_ to Emma’s amazement. “Regina did you just-- ?” she starts but Regina only laughs knowingly. She goes for a second wink but her second eye closes right after the first like usual, though Regina doesn’t seem to notice, her smile remains victorious. Emma smiles at her sweetly, “You got it” Emma tells her, and that earns her a blinding smile. Regina squeezes Emma’s hands one more time and then walks away.

There’s no way she can process any of that, all she can seem to do is lightly trace a finger against her lips and track Regina’s movements with her dazed eyes. The next breath she takes shudders, and she flops back against the wall, a goofy grin spreading and stomach doing a flip.

“That was quite the kiss,” Ruby says, wiggling her eyebrows and walks over until she’s by Emma’s side. “But don’t worry, I didn’t watch the entire thing, because that would be creepy.”

Emma chuckles lightly, and bumps Ruby’s shoulder. Her mind is too sluggish to figure out words. She leans against the wall with that lopsided grin and concentrates on the stage. Regina is already up there, hair slightly tussled, and Emma images that her lipstick is smudged, too. They announce backwards again, and as fourth place is given a huge cheer, Emma lets out a sigh when it’s not Regina. If Emma didn’t think she deserved to win before – which she did, of course she did, but after that kiss, she wants her to win even more.

When third is announced, Emma’s heart rate accelerates. Regina is on that stage sharing glances with the other contestant. An Asian woman with a very solemn expression who seems completely unbothered by the whole thing. “And our winner,” he calls through the microphone, and the room buzzes with energy. It vibrates through Emma’s body when there’s a low rumble that increases for every second he makes them wait. “DJ REGAL!” he yells, confetti shooting through canons as the crowd dives to their feet.

“Oh my god!” Ruby squeals, clapping furiously whilst Emma simply stares. The feeling of going to her returns in full force, because after being swept up like that, she can’t think of anything better than having Regina fitting perfectly into her arms. She glances Ruby’s way, but she shrugs and offers a genuine smile. “Go,” she encourages, and she doesn’t need to be told again.

The cheer gets louder the closer she walks to the stage, and by the time she reaches it, Regina has been pulled up into a hug by the commentator. The other contestant graciously clapping next to them. Regina smiles brightly over his shoulder, then lowers her gaze to where Emma is hovering by the stairs. Regina pulls away from the hug then extends an arm. Emma jogs up the stairs, but instead of taking Regina’s hand, she’s swept up into Regina’s arms. When they kiss another roar runs through the arena, and the commentator blows out a long breath. “Looks like she got the girl, too,” he exclaims, and the pair laugh and share quick kisses.

Emma’s head is spinning when they finally pull away, but it jolts to a stop when a warm hand cups her cheek, and soft eyes intently stare at her. “I love you,” Regina says without a hint of hesitation or doubt, and for a brief second Emma wants to tell her she’s absurd, that she can’t love her so soon, but when Regina rolls her eyes and mutters, “against my better judgement,” she knows that she can, because –

“I love you, too.”

Regina tips her head to the side, then Emma leans in to nuzzles their noses before they’re directed off the stage. They stumble down the steps, but the moment they hit solid ground Regina spins her around and wraps her back up.

There’s details to work out, but for right now Regina doesn’t move her arms from around Emma’s body. Not that she minds, not at all; it gives her plenty of excuses to keep on stealing kisses. “I’m so proud of you,” she says, and Regina’s eyes soften. “Congratulations.” 

They kiss again, and there’s chatter and loud music, and people filtering out of the arena, but with Regina in her arms and their mouths pressed together, she can’t think about anything else. She almost misses the person who clears their throat from beside them. Luckily enough, Regina pulls back and raises her brows.

“Could I please have a moment of your time?” a woman with a thick Australian accent asks, and Emma is about to step to the side when Regina grabs her shoulders and turns her around.

“She means you,” Regina says, hands squeezing her upper arms.

“Erm…sure,” Emma says, eyes dazed and uncertain.

The woman offers a genuine smile. “My name is Lacey,” she says. “I work for a production company who recently signed an artist. We’ve been looking for someone to match her sound, and I believe that person is you.”

Emma blinks slowly, unable to process anything other than Regina’s hands that squeeze her arms, or her body that brushes against her back. “What does that mean?” she asks, not intending to be rude, but today has been a whirlwind of ups and downs.

Lacey offers her a small business card. Emma wraps her fingers around it then flips it between them. “It means,” she says, sharing a smirk with Regina who is holding her breath and almost vibrating with excitement. “I think the judges made a mistake. No offense,” she adds, winking at Regina. “Congratulations on your win. You were phenomenal out there.”

“Thank you. And none taken,” she says, before pressing her lips deliciously against Emma’s neck. Emma would moan and lean back, begging for more if they didn’t have company. “Emma,” she hisses in her ear. “Pay attention.”

How is she expected to do that when all she wants is to wrap herself up in Regina? She frowns up at the woman. “I don’t understand,” she says, because should she?

“I would like to set up a meeting,” Lacey continues. “I believe we have a place for you at our production company. We offer flexible hours, an honest team we hand select, a six figure yearly salary, plus royalties-” she winks, “and that is before we get into any real details.”

Emma swallows, head shaking. “I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“She’s offering you a job,” Regina says, then looks to Lacey. “I think you’ve stunned her into silence.”

“Nothing needs to happen right away,” Lacey says, the woman calm, and with a gentle smile. “But if you’re interested give the number on that card a call within the next two weeks and we’ll get started.”

All Emma can do is stare, fighting the urge to lean backwards into Regina’s arms. The woman in question chuckles, the breath tickling her neck. “She is interested and will definitely be giving you a call. I think she simply needs a moment to process.”

“Fantastic. I look forwards to your call, Emma.”

“Yeah, erm…thank you,” she says, not entirely sure what exactly had just happened. Lacey nods then walks away. She turns back to Regina, frowning up at the stunning woman’s face. “Did she say six figures?”

“She did,” Regina says, gently running her fingers through Emma’s tangled hair. “Are you catching up, darling?”

Emma nods jerkily, thinking about everything she could give Henry. Security, love…her eyes meet Regina’s – the person looking to her like she’s the most precious thing in the world, and her mind easily adds _family._ “Yeah, I got it,” she says, dreamily smiling back.


End file.
